


Rumor Has It

by paulatheprokaryote



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bartenders, Community: HPFT, Daily Prophet, Day At The Beach, Department of Mysteries, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Love, Ministry of Magic, Quidditch, Romance, Shell Cottage, Unspeakables, Witch Weekly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulatheprokaryote/pseuds/paulatheprokaryote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <img/>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The media always gets the story wrong.</p><p>James II/OC</p><p>flawless banner by nyx @ the-dark-arts.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. O N E

Poppi shot a sideways glance at her fellow bartender, Ramona, who grimaced in a way that was screaming ‘yikes!’ to anyone who had the misfortune of witnessing it. A blonde woman who seemed like the kind of person who’d slit your throat just for bumping into her, marched into the bar, slamming the door shut behind her. Poppi was sure Mikey, the wimpy bouncer, would be all over her in a second or two. Escorting her out while trying desperately to flirt with her, as he so often did.

Blondie stomped right up to a patron sitting at the bar, tapping her toe aggressively behind him. He was staring forward, but based on the sudden rigidity in his body and the widening of his eyes, he was well aware she was there.

Ramona slid down the bar to the other side, where Poppi was washing glasses for the next customers.

“I love domestics,” Ramona groaned sarcastically.

“Where the hell is Mikey?” Poppi wondered aloud, glancing around the dimly lit pub.

“Probably off with another smoke.” Ramona rolled her eyes.

“He really needs to quit that habit,” Poppi muttered absentmindedly, waiting for the knut to drop. It surely would any second. The patron closed his eyes briefly as if gathering himself, then spun around coolly on the stool, face to face with Blondie.

“What do you want, Eva?” He said clearly exasperated.

“Is that it then?” She hissed, voice more nasally than Poppi could tolerate.

“Is what it?” He seemed so weary of this conversation. Ramona, however, seemed even more weary. Domestic conflicts seemed to always drag themselves into this pub. Or in this case, march right in and tap its probably perfectly pedicured toes. Smashed glasses, police, shouting. It’s too routine to tolerate.

“You’re just going to walk out of my life? For what? Some whores in a skeazy pub?” She spat. Poppi took a moment to tear her eyes away from the trainwreck waiting to unfold and glanced around the bar. There were maybe three girls, all rather nice seeming and all with other people. She hardly thought he’s going to find any whores here.

“How did you even find me?” He looked bewildered, suddenly patting himself down. He pulled out his wallet, removing a picture and eyeing it suspiciously.

“You wouldn’t.” He narrowed his eyes at her.

He pulled out his wand and tapped the picture, exhaustion turning to inflamed anger. The picture caught alight. Apparently she would.

“A tracking spell? Really? You need to leave. If you come near me again, I’m getting a restraining order.” He threatened, swiveling around on his barstool to have a sip of his firewhiskey. Ramona, bored with inaction, poured another glass for another patron.

Eva, the blonde she-devil, stood flabbergasted behind him before doing the unthinkable. She pulled her wand out and pointed it at his back. Without thinking, Poppi shot a bat-bogey hex in her direction. Several large, black bats flew from her nasal cavity as she screamed and swatted at them. Poppi hopped over the granite countertop and grabbed her roughly by the arm.

“That’ll teach you to hex someone when their back is turned,” Poppi growled.

Poppi escorted her out of the bar, ignoring her shrieks of protest. She kept trying to jerk out of her grip, but she wasn't playing today. She spent all morning at the Department of Mysteries and she spent all night at the bar. She was ready to go home and finally catch up on sleep.

Poppi shoved her into the alley causing her to stumble back, wand pointed directly at her face.

“If I ever see you here again, you’ll wish that I called the police. Do you understand me?” Poppi threatened. In reality, she would just call the police, but she didn’t need to know that.

Mikey, smoking in the alley, hurried over to the scene, nearly tripping over a loose shoe string.

“If she comes back inside, I’ll make sure you don’t have a job tomorrow.” Poppi narrowed her eyes at him.

“Yes ma’am!” He saluted sending a cheeky wink to Eva.

“You’ll pay for this,” She said suddenly, frigidly, wiping a few tears off her cheek.

“I doubt you could take me,” Poppi answered cockily. She promptly spun around and went back in the pub.

“Good one, Poppi!” Ramona congratulated her behind the bar.

“Well, you cleaned up the last one,” Poppi grinned at her, returning to the counter. The last domestic involved a very large woman that actually ended up wrestling Ramona to the floor and putting her in a choke hold until the police arrived. It took five of them to drag her out.

“Don’t bloody remind me,” She sighed.

The patron that brought the domestic here tapped his glass against the bar, signalling he’d like another drink. Poppi grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey he’d asked for previously and filled up his glass.

“So.” He began uncomfortably. Poppi shot her eyebrows up at him, waiting for him to complete his thought, “Uh, thanks I guess.” He grinned at her sheepishly.

“Don’t mention it,” she said seriously. She really didn’t want to get involved in his drama. He was incredibly handsome and somewhere deep, deep down Poppi couldn’t entirely blame the crazy girl for causing a scene over him.

“She wasn’t always this bad,” he started, warm eyes looking just jaded.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” Poppi whispered conspiratorially, “The stereotype about bartenders giving you thoughtful advice on your domestic disputes, that’s all rubbish. If we had our shit together, we wouldn’t be in a job where we have to talk to other human beings on a regular basis.”

“So you have no soulful wisdom to supply?” He grinned cheekily.

“Get a more thorough background check on your potential mates next time?” She offered.

“Maybe hire a private investigator?” He suggested.

“Why stop there? How good are you at legilimency?” Poppi countered.

“Rubbish, sadly.” He laughed.

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Poppi grabbed his hand that was firmly on the bartop, flipping it over so the palm side was up, “I’ve got some seer blood in me and based on your loveline here, I predict another crazy girlfriend in your future,” she traced the indention in his hand. He gazed up at her in a way that told her she should not have done that. The last thing she needed was another patron trying to follow her home.

“Only if she’s y--” He began, but Ramona saved the day.

“Poppi, can you get the customers at the end of the bar? I’m covered up,” She called. Sure enough, she was covered up. Six new patrons had plopped down since Poppi had started talking to the troublemaker.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Poppi said curtly, excusing herself to serve the next customer.

Three a.m. hit, the lights flicked on, and everyone shuffled out of the bar looking worse for wear. It was Ramona’s turn to stay and clean, so Poppi filed away all the receipts and shuffled out the door with the intoxicated patrons.

“One last time, I wanted to thank you. She might have actually avada’d me if you didn’t step in.” The troublemaker patron followed her out onto the cobblestone road.

“You’re not going to try to follow me home, are you?” She asked suspiciously as he fell into step beside her.

“Nothing like that! It’s just dangerous for a girl like you to be out at night is all,” He said, causing her to quirk an eyebrow.

“You realize that I do this nearly every night. Somehow I survive,” She said sarcastically.

Suddenly a flash of dizzying lights and flashes from everywhere disoriented her.

“Oh dear Merlin!” She groaned, covering her eyes.

“James, who is this with you?”

“James is it true Eva Whitworth broke it off with you for having an affair with this mystery woman?”

“James what do you have to say for the rumors that you are engaged to Myron Wagtail?”

“Isn’t Myron a bloke? An old one at that,” She asked the man with the camera. He shrugged. “I suppose you could be very open minded,” She examined the troublemaker, James, beside her who looked exasperated at best.

“I never get ten bloody seconds to my bloody self,” James muttered angrily. He grabbed her hand, pulling her down an alley with him. The camera people, she supposed paparazzi, chased after them, but not as quickly since they were lugging large film gear.

“Hold on,” He said, disapparating them on the spot. The familiar crushing of every cell in her body by the nasty feeling to be sick everywhere put her in a foul mood when her feet planted woozily on the ground. She tried her best to choke back the nausea, but instead ran over to some bushes to hurl.

“You should have just disapparated yourself. I’ve worked too many hours to apparate safely! You’re lucky I wasn’t splinched!” She growled, trying to take in her surroundings.

A looming stone manor stood impressively in front of her, which just spurned her urge to run as far away as possible.

“Come in, I’ll get you some tea for your stomach.” He offered, gesturing toward the door.

“No thanks, you’re probably a serial killer.” She insisted, preparing to call the Knight Bus.

“What if I promised I’m not a serial killer?” He countered.

“That’s precisely the kind of thing a serial killer would say,” She accused.

“We aren’t even at my house. This is my parents’ house. The paparazzi can’t make it through these wards very well.”

“What’s your name again?” She asked apprehensively. She vaguely recognized him and he was apparently very wealthy. Unfortunately wealth didn’t always translate into stability.

He looked at her with surprise before answering, “James Potter.”

“The one quidditch guy?” She asked, vaguely recalling.

“Puddlemere’s keeper and the eldest son of Harry Potter.” He answered with a mixture of offense and surprise.

“Oh. You should probably lead with that.” She decided to definitely spring for the Knight Bus, nausea be damned.

“Come on, one cup of tea won’t hurt.” He grabbed her hand and gave her an obnoxiously pouty look.

She relented despite her better judgment, “just a cup of tea.”

She stepped into the grand foyer and regretted it immediately. It was three am and she could hear a ruckus ensuing from inside the depths of the house. They followed the sound of boisterous laughter and the clanging of pots and pans into kitchen. She forgot that her hand was still in his. Harry and Ginny Potter didn’t stop laughing hysterically when they invaded the sizable room.

“Just in time!” Ginny snorted.

“I see you’ve brought a friend!” Harry tried to catch his breath, holding the stitches in his side.

“Mom, Dad, this is--”James started before turning back to look at her. She never told him her name.

“Poppi. Poppi Pennington,” She supplied.

A light flicked on in Harry’s eyes, “I know you! You’re the young woman training for the new position in the Department of Mysteries!”

“I can neither confirm or deny that, Mr. Potter!” She shot him a wink.

“No need with the formalities, Branwell has told me all about you!” Harry exclaimed heartily.

“Lovely to meet you, dear,” Ginny said kindly. In that moment, something sticky and large fell flat on Poppi's head. Everyone was silent, before laughter erupted. She peeled it off slowly, horrified by the feeling. Syrup laced her hair. A giant, fluffy pancake crumpled in her hands.

“We were wondering if that would ever come down! It’s been up there a good twenty five minutes now!” Ginny snorted again.

James exchanged an extremely apologetic look with Poppi. She couldn't seem to wipe the grimace off her face.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?" Ginny gestured to the door of the kitchen.

“That’s alright, I was just leaving,” Poppi suggested.

“Nonsense.” She shushed her. James just gave her another apologetic look. Ginny ushered her out of the kitchen, up the marble staircase, and to an exquisitely large bathroom. She stared expectantly at her.

“Uh?” Poppi gaped intelligently, unsure what it was she wanted from her.

“I’ll go ahead and wash your clothes while you shower. No need for you to be sticky all night.” She turned on the faucet for her, testing the water. When she turned back around, Poppi was still clothed.

“No need to be shy, we’re all girls here,” She said. Poppi stripped nearly naked in front of Ginny Potter, only slightly mortified. She, thankfully, let her keep her undergarments.

“Good girl, I’ll bring you some clothes until yours are dry!” She scampered out of the bathroom, leaving Poppi to shower in a stranger’s bathroom.

'This might actually be weirder than a serial killer,' she mused, quickly scrubbing the sticky syrup out of her hair. Despite how nice the jets felt on her exhausted body, she couldn’t get out fast enough. Wrapped in a towel, hair dripping steadily, she glanced around for some clothes. Ginny failed to bring them as she said. She debated briefly before opening the door to the hallway and sticking her head out. No one in either direction. She debated on whether or not to call out for her or try to find her or just apparate the bloody hell out of here, but she was greeted with her smiling face round the corner immediately.

“This should do fine!” Ginny handed her only an oversized quidditch jersey. It was Gryffindor and said POTTER on the back in chunky block letters. Considering how many Potters played quidditch and were in Gryffindor, that hardly narrowed it down. It fit more like a dress than a shirt, but all she had to do was wait for her clothes to dry and she could get out of here.

“There! You look positively radiant!” Ginny beamed when Poppi came out of the bathroom.

“If you say so.” Poppi frowned, following her back down the marble staircase into a small family room. Harry and James had a television on, flicking through the channels.

“I figured we could go muggle tonight!” Harry grinned at his wife when we entered the room. James’ eyes just widened further at the sight of Poppi, which prompted a strange churning in Poppi's stomach. Ginny snuggled in between her husband and son, leaving Poppi on the edge of the couch next to James.

“This is certainly not what I had in mind,” He whispered to her after a movie started.

“I can assure you I had no intention of spending my friday night like this either,” Poppi yawned. Her eyes landed on a cup of tea sitting on the sofa table. She'd forgotten all about the tea. James handed it to her hastily.

“Why are you in my quidditch jersey?” He smirked at her wardrobe.

“Your mother insisted,” She answered without bothering to hide her distaste.

“Are you wearing pants under there or anything?” He asked hesitantly.

“Do you really want to know the answer to that?” She snorted.

“I’ll take that as a no then.” He winked. Poppi began to think she should have let that girl hex him.

“Why are they up so late anyway? It’s almost four in the morning,” She scrunched up her face trying to see the clock hanging on the wall.

“Both mom and dad have been working nights lately. I imagine they just got off,” He answered after a moment of consideration. All was quiet and still as the plot of the movie thickened. She couldn’t keep her heavy eyelids open long enough to watch the movie. Her eyelids finally lost the battle against exhaustion, lulling her to sleep on the shoulder of a stranger.


	2. T W O

She awoke to the sound of soft snoring and the feeling of a warm body draped across her own. Daylight was streaming mercilessly through the ornate window. James was snuggled close to her, nearly slipping off the couch either way.

“Oh dear Merlin,” she muttered, trying to roll away from him. There was no where to roll. She pulled herself into a crouch, leaping over the edge of the couch. Her foot got caught on the decorative trim, causing her to face plant onto the hardwood floor. The ache reverberated through her cheek bone.

“Everything alright in there?” Ginny’s voice called from the area Poppi recognized as the kitchen.

“Fine,” she called back, hoping to not be subjected to any more humiliation.

“Breakfast is almost ready, would you mind waking James?” Ginny called to her again.

Poppi momentarily considered making a run for it, but she prodded the sleepy troll awake instead, expertly dodging his swats.

“Go ‘way,” he murmured, rolling deeper into the cushions.

“James Waldorf Potter, you’ve put me in the second weirdest situation of my entire life. You’re going to get me out of it.” she hissed flicking his ear. He woke with a growl and a scowl “Sirius. Not Waldorf.”

"Like I care." 

One more eye roll and resentful glare later, he groggily shuffled to the kitchen, Poppi unfortunately very awake behind him. Ginny had three different milks on the table with varying degrees of fat content, a jar of sugar, a bear of honey, a jug of cream, and chocolate syrup. Poppi plopped into a chair and Ginny immediately poured her a steaming cup of coffee.

“I didn’t know how you liked your coffee so I provided all the options we have.” she gestured at the assortment in front of her.

“Oh, black is perfectly fine. Thank you though.” Poppi took a huge gulp.

“I don’t trust people that don’t put cream in their coffee.” James narrowed his eyes at her, mixing so much cream into his coffee that it matched the color of fresh parchment.

“I don’t trust people that claim to like coffee but change it so drastically that it no longer resembles coffee," she retaliated. “It says a lot about what kind of person they are.”

“So what are we planning on doing today?” Harry said, spreading the Daily Prophet open. Poppi caught a glimpse of her own face on the front page.

“Oh my god!” she screeched in horror at the befuddled look on her face. Harry closed the Prophet to the front page and just frowned.

“It’s okay, it’ll fade in a few weeks,” Harry said dismissively, opening the Prophet back to the sports section.

James grabbed the section of the paper with the front page so he could read it, ignoring a very disgruntled Harry Potter.

**_James Potter spotted with homewrecker Poppi Pennington._**

**_Poppi, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have upgraded from her usual selection of dragon dung scoopers to our favorite quidditch player--James Potter._ **

“ONE DRAGON DUNG SCOOPER!” she cried indignantly. They make it sound like she was a serial dung scooper dater.

**_Sources close to James say that he’d been having an illicit affair with the bartender when Eva Whitworth found out and confronted them both at The Crooked Wand pub late last night._**

James crumpled the paper in his fist.

“They seriously can’t leave me alone for five minutes! Five bloody minutes!” he groaned. His mother swooped beside him to pat his shoulder gently.

“Twenty galleons that Eva girl was the actual source.” Harry grumbled.

Ginny filled plates on the table with sausages, eggs, and beans before sitting down at the table herself.

After Ginny guilted Poppi into a hearty helping, she asked Ginny for her clothes. She finally handed over the carefully folded clothes, albeit a bit begrudgingly. She began to worry she was considering holding Poppi hostage. She yanked her jeans on with only minor flailing about, and traveled by floo network into her own tiny flat.

She only barely breathed a sigh of relief at being home and stashed her wand and keys in the entry basket before she felt overwhelmingly disoriented. Something was very wrong. The apartment window was sprung open in the miniscule kitchen, curtain waving with the breeze. Her old French cookbooks with weak bindings directly under the window were all knocked over, sprawled across the countertop and floor. The desk in the corner of the room was in utter disarray. Someone had been in her home. Panic flooded her veins, nausea swept through her belly. Her mind spun as if she'd just apparated.

At that moment, a twisted form climbed through the cracked window. It was a lanky man, with a dark expression muttering to himself. Poppi frantically patted her jeans for her wand, but she couldn’t remember where exactly she had placed it. She literally just had it! He hadn’t noticed her yet, as he was pulling something in behind him. She backed up toward the fireplace, desperately grabbing at the frigid stone behind her for a weapon of some sort. She couldn’t be left vulnerable while some--some man attacked her. Her hand landed in a pile of gritty ash that gave her an idea. She dashed some floo powder into the grate and screamed for help until her lungs stung and her throat ached.

In a pop, James, Harry, and Ginny were climbing out her fireplace, wands at the ready. She was still frantically searching for her wand and still screaming. James leapt in front of her, wand still pointed fiercely at the man in my window.

“Uh,” the man said when he finally toppled out the window and onto the kitchen floor. He slowly raised his hands in surrender, “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“It’s exactly what it’s like! The beast broke into my flat to murder me! He probably wanted to collect my teeth to make a necklace or something equally horrifying!”

“What? No! I don’t even wear necklaces!” He gasped.

“Exactly the sort of thing someone like that would say!” Poppi accused dangerously, stepping forward for a fight.

“Poppi. You’ve got to calm down,” James whispered, dark eyes softening.

“You’re coming with me,” Harry grabbed the wrist of the man on the floor and popped out of the room. She hoped the man got splinched.

“Are you okay dear?” Ginny pulled her into a tight hug, the way only a mother could. She felt a pang of longing for her own mother.

“I’m okay.” Poppi murmured into her shoulder as she stroked her hair softly. She was okay. Shaken up slightly, but overall okay. No tears were falling yet. Not until she was alone at least. Ginny turned around suddenly and walked to the fireplace without a word. She floo’d out, leaving James and Poppi alone. Poppi sighed and began picking up her disheveled cookbooks. James bent over to help.

“I’m sorry about all of this, y’know." He sounded genuine.

“I can’t even imagine what your life must be like.”

“What do you mean?” James asked, turning toward her.

“I’ve been a very insignificant part of your life for less than twelve hours and someone is already climbing through my window and printing mean things about me. What must you go through every single day?” She asked, now facing him.

“You get used to it.” He answered jadedly. He reminded her momentarily of Ramona.

“I don’t think you should have to. Everyone deserves at least a little bit of privacy. I feel so--so violated right now.” She lamented gesturing to the mess that was now her apartment.

“They tend to snoop around a bit if they can’t find anything good enough. I’ve had a few break-ins myself. Like I said, I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this.” One of them or maybe both of them had stepped closer to each other.

“It’s alright.” They were now nose to nose. She meant it. It was hardly his fault that people with cameras lost a sense of decency.

Ginny popped back through the fireplace holding a bright blue vial, causing both of them to jump.

“What’s that?”James voiced her own question.

“Sleeping potion. I know you’ve got training at the ministry tonight and we hijacked you last night,” Ginny said.

“I don’t really think I can sleep right now.”

“That’s exactly what the potion is for.” Ginny answered with a slightly mocking laugh.

“I’ve written to my nephew, Louis. He’s a trained auror and he promised he’d keep watch outside your flat all day.” She continued.

As if on cue, three loud knocks on the door spurned Ginny to open it.

“Just wanted to let you know I’m here. You must be Poppi!” The fair haired man extended a hand for her to shake.

“The very one!” She shaked his hand with a firm grip. Her father always said that women with limp wrists also had a limp backbone.

“Get some rest. This will all blow over soon enough.” Louis grinned. That’s what they all kept saying. It made her curious how often this happened to the family. She rubbed her eyes, not quite tired but overwhelmingly exhausted. “Good night!” She called back to Ginny and James, swallowing the potion in one gulp.

The darkness consumed her mind before she had the chance to shed even a single tear. It was relieving to enter a dreamless sleep.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  


The ministry was swarmed by reporters. Business suits and flashing cameras and microphones and notepads littered the path to work. It was like an apocalyptic battle to the death but with less weapons and more cameras. Poppi was not sure why the ministry didn’t remove them. Surely there was some kind of rule against the media harassing ministry workers in their own building.

“What do you have to say about Eva Whitworth’s comments on your weight in Witch Weekly this morning?” A witch in a sharp suit shoved a microphone in her groggy face.

“I like it when you call me Big Poppi.” She shot a wink at the sensibly dressed witch. She laughed and for a moment Poppi forgot that she was the enemy. She didn’t read Witch Weekly so she wasn’t sure exactly what was said about her, but it was probably rude. She tried not to let the idea of it eat at her.

Another reporter hopped into her path, this time assaulting her with flashes from the camera.

“Can you shed some light onto the breakup?” A greasy looking man asked.

Well, there’s her chance. If the Eva girl wanted to be catty, Poppi would be a lion.

“Oh, yeah, completely. James is a gentle kind of man. Like a flower you just can’t pick. And his ex was really pressuring him to do something he wasn’t comfortable with.” Poppi whispered conspiratorially.

“Like what?”

She pulled her best torn face, as if she wasn’t sure she should divulge her next bit of information.

“Off the record, she’s a huge fan of the yeti. She kept trying to get him to dress up as one for...well...It’s her thing though and people shouldn’t be shamed for their things,” she said sternly.

“What’s your thing?” He asked scribbling furiously.

“Me? I prefer yodeling men.”

“What?” He asked genuinely shocked.

Poppi shot him a dazzling smile before turning down the restricted corridor to the Department of Mysteries. At least she’d be safe there. Even if they were allowed down the corridor, which they most certainly weren’t, it's highly unlikely any of them would venture into the unknown.

“Oh, Poppi. Thank Merlin you’re alright! I couldn’t get the vultures to leave!” Branwell embraced her as she entered the department.

“They had to wait for the delicious, rotting carcass known as Poppi Pennington. So I suppose you’ve read all about it then?” she asked Branwell.

“It’s hard not to! Harry told me more about what happened though. Someone was in your flat? I’m surprised Skeeter hasn’t gotten to you yet!” Branwell gave her a sympathetic look before stacking a pile of paperwork on her desk.

“What’s all this?” she whined. She was well beyond the stage of fetching coffee and filing paperwork.

“Lit review! You’ve been assigned a project!” Branwell’s eyes lit up excitedly.

“A PROJECT!” she nearly screamed. She might have screamed. She definitely screamed.

“Jameson decided you were ready for it. If you complete it, you know what that means!” Branwell squealed in excitement. He was the best supervisor of all time!

“The position will be mine!” she gushed, grinning ear to ear.

“Get to work!” Branwell patted her towering pile of books.

She sat down at her messy desk, unsure where to start. She dug through the papers until she found the project proposal. Time Room. She thought for sure she’d be stuck in the Hall of Prophecy or something mundane, but she got the Time Room! Easily one of the most coveted in the department! Examine the post-translational modifications of the circadian clock of magical mammals. Post-translational modifications. That’d be like phosphorylation, histone acetylation, methylation, and ubiquitination. That’s not too terrible. She glanced once more at the pile of literature on her desk and decided to sort it into piles based on major topics covered. The day would never end.


	3. T H R E E

James sat rigid at the breakfast table, ignoring his mother carefully watching him with a crease in between her brows. The newspaper crumpled slightly where his fists clenched it tightly. Her worried expression indicated that she had, indeed, already read the paper this morning.

“She must be destroying my reputation.” James grunted, rereading the yodeling men thing again in the Prophet.

“Actually, it seems like you’re more popular than ever. Your fangirls actually even like her,” Ginny said with an encouraging smile. She was always one to find the silver-lining.

“I don’t think that’s even possible. They usually want to murder the women in my life!” James snorted derisively. Without a nondescript ballcap and hooded sweatshirt he could hardly walk down the avenues of Diagon Alley, much less pop into his cousin Fred’s shop. 

“I saw a tabloid yesterday calling her the ‘People’s Potter’ whatever that means.” Albus, his younger brother, laughed, causing James to laugh. Albus hadn’t been around much lately and James was very pleased to see him interacting with the family at last. They used to be a very tight knit bunch.

“Well, she has been quite a handful for the reporters so far.” James agreed.

“I, for one, I quite like her.” Ginny scooped up the dishes, nudging James with her elbow. He ignored her knowing look. She seemed to toss those around these days as if a few streaks of grey suddenly made her wise. Albus nodded absentmindedly, “me too."

James pressed a thumb under his chin, contemplating the enigma that was Poppi Pennington. She was plenty pretty, unusually funny, and obviously very ambitious. She just can’t bite her tongue when she needs to. If James dated her, it would be nonstop press. Not that she had indicated any desire in him at all. If anything, she’d implied the opposite on numerous occasions.

His father rustled down the stairs, yanking a coat on as he dashed to the brick fireplace.

“Where are you going? You haven’t even had breakfast yet!” Ginny crossed her freckled arms across her chest, fiery glare rendering her rushing husband temporarily paused.

“It’s Poppi. Third break in this week! Louis just sent for me. He said this one was a doozy!”

“I doubt it warrants a visit from the Head of the Auror Department!” Ginny called just before he stepped onto the grate.

“I’m guessing this one does!” Harry said with a final foreboding look.

James and his mother exchanged a worried look and silently agreed to follow Harry, Albus chasing behind them. A dash of floo powder sent the three of them spiraling into Poppi’s flat. Poppi, wearing nothing but a towel and a scowl, had her wand pointed to her kitchen window and was arguing heatedly with Harry and Louis.

“OH, I’LL LET HIM DOWN, ALRIGHT!” she hissed at Harry. Louis was vigorously shaking his head ‘no’. It took several moments for James to realize that the reason Poppi had her wand pointed to the window was because she had a terrified man with camera hovering shakily outside the window. The sight of it would have been laughable, except that Poppi was filled with enough rage that James wasn't certain she wasn't going to Azkaban today.

“Poppi, I need you to calm down!” Harry, hands up as if signalling he wasn't the enemy, approached her as one might approach a rabid chimaera. Poppi only shook more with anger, causing the man to scream as he dipped slightly.

“Calm down?” she repeated, eyes flashing dangerously.

“Dad,” Albus whispered cautiously, “I’m no expert on women, but I’d say that you probably shouldn’t tell a woman dangling a man from her window to calm down.” James thought, for a moment, that maybe his brother was the smartest of the Potter men. He really seemed to have a handle on life.

James moved swiftly to Poppi, unsure of what he intended to do, but sure that he was going to try to channel his inner Albus.

“Poppi, if you put the man down without killing him we can work this out.” James tried to reason with her. He couldn't help but note that even when she was bubbling with rage, she was very, very pretty. Seeing someone like her so angry almost made him want to laugh, but he couldn't laugh because that would most certainly result in the death of the dangling man.

“Why should I? It might teach the other reporters a lesson!” Poppi sounded as if she was on the brink of tears, causing James’ heart to only beat faster. He was entirely under qualified to deal with her. He glanced back at Albus for help, only to catch the eye of his mother instead.

“There are better ways to deal with them. Trust me.” Ginny spoke gently giving Poppi one of her meaningful expressions that James didn’t quite understand. It seemed to work. Poppi’s wand wavered slightly, expression changing from rage to exasperation.

“Oh, alright.” she sighed dramatically, pulling the man up. He began groveling, thanking Ginny profusely.

“Oh save it. I had half a mind to let her splatter you all over the cement.” Ginny rolled her eyes. Harry and Louis each grabbed the man, vanishing on the spot with a loud crack.

“Poppi, why don’t you just stay with me until this whole thing blows over?” James said with an anxious expression that made a very distressed Poppi even more anxious. He was both excited and terrified at the prospect of sharing his home with the whirlwind that was Poppi Pennington.

“Why in Merlin’s name would I do that?” she asked in clear distaste. James pretended like her response didn't sting his pride ever so slightly.

“Because this is your third break in this week and I think you’re probably going to kill someone,” James said exasperated, looking at his mother and sibling for some sort of support in the matter.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Ginny chimed in, rubbing Poppi’s arm comfortingly.

“If we are being perfectly honest, all three broke in through the kitchen window. I think they were actually after my scone recipe.” Poppi whispered conspiratorially, choking back what James was now certain was tears. Ginny and Albus both laughed heartily but James only smiled at her.

“Fine,” Poppi relented, “But try not to fall in love with me.” James let out an obnoxious snort that didn't seem to sting her pride, not even ever so slightly.

“I’ll help you pack.” Ginny gently led her to her bedroom.

Albus and James sat uncomfortably on the couch unsure what they should be doing.

“You still like her?” James broke the silence, remembering the earlier conversation.

“Well, we’ve all thought about dangling a couple of them out the window, haven’t we? Between Rita Skeeter and Romilda Vane…” Albus trailed off. James couldn’t help but agree.

Ginny began throwing months worth of clothes into a navy weekender bag using an undetectable extension charm as Poppi slipped on some clothes. After her slumberparty at Ginny's and the pancake incident, she didn't feel the need to be as shy as she usually would be.

“I hardly think I’ll need this much stuff.” Poppi protested as she gathered up her bathroom supplies and dumped them into the bag.

“It’s better to be prepared!” Ginny ignored her, plunging the remainder of her closet into the unzipped abyss.

Poppi opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Ginny, however, couldn’t just leave the silence.

“Be patient with him.” Ginny kept her back turned from Poppi, digging through her closet.

“Who?” Poppi asked confused. She was still worried about her closet.

“James. He’s actually rather fragile when it comes to women. Too many have tried to use him as a step to fame.” She frowned, turning to eye Poppi momentarily, as if she might be after fame as well. Ginny smiled warmly after a moment.

“I’m not interested in fame. I just open my mouth and stupid leaks out.” Poppi plopped onto her unmade bed with a sigh.

“I was a bit like that when I was younger. It’s hard to bite your tongue when you’ve got something clever to say.” Ginny sat on the bed beside the sprawled Poppi, pulling a pillow into her lap.

“If only the things I blurted out were actually clever!” Poppi lamented, thinking back to the yodeling men comment she’d recently made.

“Ages ago, back in school, Romilda Vane once asked me if Harry had a hippogriff tattooed on his chest." Ginny began with a hint of laughter.

"And what did you tell her?" Poppi asked skeptically. Harry Potter, despite the legend, seemed far too vanilla for a tattoo that cool.

"I told her he had a Hungarian Horntail and that my brother, Ron, had a Pygmy Puff in a more...unsavory location." Ginny and Poppi laughed until Ginny was gasping for air and Poppi had tears streaking her cheeks.

“You didn’t!” Poppi gasped between giggles.

“I did!”

The door creaked, James' head poking through inquisitively. “How’s it going in here?” He glanced around.

Ginny and Poppi exchanged a look and burst out laughing all over again.

“I’ll take that as a ‘We’re doing well, James. Almost done in here!’” James attempted to mimic a female voice but it came out more like an elderly mouse trying to muster a squeak.

“We’re doing well, James. Almost done in here!” Ginny repeated, causing Poppi to succumb to fits of giggles all over again, clutching her side as she gasped for air.

“Merlin’s beard…” James backed out of the room, returning to sit awkwardly beside his brother on Poppi’s exceptionally stiff couch.

“The point is that he’s just a bit jaded with girls. I don’t think he’s had many relationships where he hasn’t been used for some gain or another.” Ginny continued after Poppi finally caught her breath.

“Well, I’m not really looking for anything at all from him. Not fame, not fortune, not a relationship.” Poppi said in a final tone.

Ginny laughed to herself, but picked up the straps to the weekender bag and threw it over her shoulder.

“Shall we?” She offered an arm to Poppi, apparating them directly to James’ home.

“Shouldn’t we have told them we were ready?” Poppi asked, taking in the remarkably neat living room.

“They’ll figure it out eventually.” Ginny grinned mischievously.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y’know, for an Unspeakable, she really doesn’t shut up, does she?” James muttered to Albus as he rubbed his temples in a slow, circular motion, trying to massage away his migraine.

“It’s a classic Unspeakable trick. When someone’s trying to get information out of you, you supply something bizarre to distract them. We call it the shocker,” she said proudly as she completed her crossword puzzle, cross legged by the fire.

“You should really come up with another name for that.” Albus cringed, flipping through television channels.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” Poppi replied snippily.

Albus was staying over at James’ for dinner since he was only in town for a few days. He’d asked Poppi a simple question about her quidditch team preferences, which sparked Poppi to go into an in-depth tangent about whether or not new broom models were actually improved or if they were just a recycling of previous models in different wood stains.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

James swung the door open, heaving his heavy quidditch practice bag through the door frame. He tossed the bag in the foyer closet carelessly, stomach rumbling when he caught a whiff of something savory in the air. He was quite pleased he’d have his place to himself later that evening when Poppi went to work. As much as he enjoyed her company, and he definitely did, he wouldn’t mind being able to take a bubble bath without being laughed at for taking a bubble bath.

He heard the shrill scream he’d came to associate with Poppi Pennington. He dashed from the closet to the kitchen, wand at the ready. If there was yet another intruder, this one would be lucky to escape with their life.

No intruder in sight, James saw Poppi standing over the stove, a sautee pan of grease popping. Every pop caused her to shriek a little.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” he demanded, hands firmly on his hips.

“Sorry, the grease scares me,” she stated simply, backing away from the stove.

“You normally just scream while you’re cooking?” James asked her with a concerned expression. He felt terrible for her neighbors.

“No, I normally order take-out,” Poppi said with a cross expression.

He stared at her dumbfounded and shook his head. She had a plate of raw chicken beside her, which she was dipping into a mix of flour and seasoning.

He swiftly moved next to her, grabbing a tea towel and blotting the chicken before she could dip it into the flour.

“It won’t pop as much if there’s less moisture." James grinned at her.

“I knew that.” She frowned, dipping the chicken into the flour.

“Did you?” He laughed.

“Probably.” She snorted.

When all of the chicken was a golden brown and cooked to the optimal temperature which James checked rigorously, they sat out the plates and devoured the food, exchanging information about their respective days. Poppi spent all morning at the Department of Mysteries reviewing literature for her project, James spent all day ‘fumbling with balls’ (Poppi insisted he use that job description in his résumé). Poppi would spend all evening pouring drinks for souls that just needed to unwind and gossip with Ramona. James glanced up at her, gnawing away at a piece of chicken, and thought he could get used to this.


	4. F O U R

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F O U R

“What do you have to say about rumors that you’ve lost all of your friends from your affair with James Potter?” Rita Skeeter, the reporter Poppi had been dreading even more than the intruders, leaned in with her quill, smugly. Poppi was at the pub finishing up her shift when the trash had to be taken out. Next time Mikey would be on trash duty. He liked the attention and interviews anyway.

“I can see why you might think that, but I’m actually with my friends in that picture!” Poppi tried to joke. She was mostly irate but Ginny said that would just delight them. She had to play it cool. Every moment of her life was stolen by a camera flash.

“You’re alone reading a book in that one?” Rita’s photographer, a burly man with a sour expression, asked as he held the photograph closer to Poppi’s face. Rita furrowed her pencil-thin eyebrows glancing back at the photograph herself as if she missed something. Two other reporters were lurking behind the bins, camera and quick-quotes quill at the ready. They weren’t nearly as discreet as they thought they were.

“Yes, but all of my friends are fictional characters. You’ll probably snap loads more pictures of us hanging out. I have an idea! Let’s start Poppi Pennington’s Paparazzi Pick of the Week! Whatever book you lot catch me with will be discussed at these ambushes!” Poppi painted on an overly enthusiastic grin, tossing the bags into the bin.

No one said anything.

“I’ll start. This week I read Harper Lee’s ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ which is obviously a classic example of social commentary on–”

“What do you have to say about a source close to you claiming that you are living with the Potters?” The scrawniest of the reporters near the bins interrupted her.

“Source close to me? Didn’t we literally just go over this? Although if the source is close to me, it’s probably my barista at Espresso Patronum Cafe over in Wiltshire. She’s memorized my order by heart and sometimes offers me 10% off of the stale scones. Seriously, if you stop in Wiltshire, ask for Meg!” Poppi smirked as she stalked back into the pub. She glared at Mikey who was attempting to flirt with a patron by the door. All it would take for that information was a pretty reporter flashing a smile.

The pub was crammed tonight, as it had been almost every night lately. The owner, Malcom Shunpike, had been trying to recruit Poppi to work even more so it would attract even more hounds trying to catch a peek at James Potter’s latest squeeze. If they had any inkling of what a typical James and Poppi evening was like, they’d get over it quickly.

“Poppi, weren’t you leaving for that _thing_?” Ramona whispered to Poppi once she was back behind the bar. She had to whisper everything and be vague because at any given point someone was always listening in.

“What time is it?” Poppi checked her nonexistent wristwatch with dread. She had no idea why James thought this would be good idea.

“Nearly nine.” Ramona shooed her toward the end of the bar.

“Right, are you sure you’ve got this tonight? I don’t have to go.” Poppi glanced around at the packed bar, reluctant to go to her _thing_ tonight.

“I’m fine! Go! Give me all the juicy details!” Ramona swatted her away. Poppi avoided the reporter infested alley and chose to leave through the front door. It was much more peaceful that way. She apparated back to James’ apartment to change for the thing.

“Well you took your time!” James grinned up at her as he stopped pacing.

“Didn’t you say you wanted us to be fashionably late?” She laughed as she stalked into the bathroom that they were currently sharing. Prior to her arrival the sink was clutter free and organized. Now James was accidentally knocking off blush or foundation or whatever the hell the rubbish was on a daily basis, then cursing as he couldn’t piece them back together. She left the door open so James could talk to her as she put on _thing_ appropriate makeup for the evening.

“I had your dress pressed today!” James said proudly as he leaned against the doorframe. His eyes chased the brush dancing across her freckles.

“Don’t you mean your mother had my dress pressed today?” She snorted.

“Well I helped!” James protested.

“I literally was on the phone with her as she sorted through my closet trying to find it. You weren’t even home! She said something about you trying to grocery shop on your own!” Poppi laughed.

“Here I am trying to provide for us! Put food on our table! I can’t believe you’d mock me!” James stuck his tongue out prompting Poppi to roll her eyes.

“Thank you for all of your hard work, James,” she said in a droning tone.

“I feel like you didn’t mean that.” He eyed her suspiciously.

“From the bottom of my heart.” She crossed her heart with the back of her eyeliner pen.

“From the bottom of your heart you meant that or you didn’t mean it?” James asked confused.

“Yes.” Poppi grinned.

“What?” James knitted his eyebrows.

“Okay.” Poppi nodded.

“Okay.” James gave up.

Poppi pulled her hair up and went to her room to slip into the freshly pressed dress.

“Come zip me up!” she called once the dress covered the important bits. James pushed the door open and stopped in his tracks.

“James?” Poppi asked when she noticed he hadn’t moved.

“Huh?” he grunted.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, yeah! I just thought I saw a spider!” he muttered quickly.

“Ew, where?” Poppi glanced around frantically. She did not want to snuggle with spiders at night.

“It was just a string.” He finally stepped close to her, right hand fumbling on the zipper. His left hand brushed the stray hairs tumbling down her back and he pulled the zipper up. His hand lingered for a moment on her back before she turned to face him.

“How do I look?” She grinned at him. He looked dazed, no doubt from the grueling practice he had that evening.

“Yes.” He gave her a lopsided smile just to bother her.

On the arm of James Potter, she toppled with a loud crack into a rather filthy alley beside the restaurant they were supposed to be at thirty minutes ago. James brushed dust off her dress, fingers lingering on her shoulders.

“Alright.” He squeezed her shoulders as he gave her a once over. “Be nice. Don’t hex anyone.”

“I can’t make any promises.” Poppi replied truthfully. Just yesterday she hexed a man who told James he couldn’t believe that he traded in Eva Whitworth for someone like her. The nerve of some people.

“We’ll keep a low profile. Don’t worry.” James gave her a reassuring smile that felt faintly of Ginny. Poppi really liked Ginny. Arm in arm with James, she wound her way past the bored hostess at the door of the restaurant all the way to a private room in the back. She was incredibly intimidated by the high ceilings and crystal chandeliers. She’d rather just hit a food truck and eat in the park. James pushed the gaudy golden doors open.

“Ladies, gentlemen, I present to you the illustrious Poppi Pennington!” he exclaimed with an exaggerated bow. 

Poppi immediately turned a deep shade of scarlet and smacked James on the shoulder.

“You’re a prat.” she murmured in his ear as the large quidditch players all whooped for her. She really wanted to go home. Her real home, not James’ immaculate flat. That place was like a museum.

“I’m only mildly sorry.” He flashed a cheeky grin at her. Her heart sped up slightly but she ignored it. Too much humiliation for one night. Her heart probably just couldn’t handle it.

“So this is the famous Poppi!” A towering, handsome man pulled her into a one armed hug.

“The very one!” James said proudly.

“Amadeus Patterson, at your service! We’ve heard so much about you. Really, James never shuts up about you. Is it true you caught the television on fire trying to change the channel?” The man babbled. His smile crinkled his eyes and he had a sort of reassuring aura about him.

“It was an accident!” She protested, shooting a glare at James.

“Seriously, she’s wild. Hexed a man just yesterday for comparing her to Eva. His whole face broke out in fur and he sprouted a tail. What was it that you said to him?” James gushed. Poppi’s face became even hotter when she realized that the entire room seemed to be listening in. She remembered the muggle events where affluent people gathered up the dumbest people they could find for a competition. She felt like she was the idiot.

“If you want to act like a goddamn animal you might as well look like one.” she supplied hesitantly. The room roared with laughter.

“Where are my manners? Let me go get you a drink!” James seemed to mistake her discomfort for thirst and stalked off to a table on the far end of the room. Poppi felt the coldness of his absence as people began circling her, asking questions about her life and pressuring her to ‘say something funny.’ They weren’t much better than the vultures, even if they were all friends with James.

“So what’s the real deal with you and Potter?” a blond man with unusually dark eyebrows smirked at her as the quidditch players talked amongst themselves about her. She immediately didn’t trust him. Something was off about his debonair demeanor. Not to mention everyone else was calling James by his first name. Her mum used to always say to trust her gut feeling.

“Alright, I'll give you the exclusive.” She forced a giggle. She was becoming quite good at messing with people.

He leaned in, a smirk playing at his lips. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Like he was the one messing with her head. Like he was somehow better than her. She had half a mind to hex him but she promised James she would keep it to a minimum and she didn’t exactly have a viable reason.

“I'm James’ body guard.” Her breath tickled his ear causing the small hairs to erect.

“Are you taking the piss?” He looked affronted, facade dropping. She immediately knew her instinct was right about this one. She chalked it up to her seer blood.

“Not at all. I'm excellent at non-verbals and I blend in. I'm the best damn bodyguard around!” She shot little finger guns at him, which seemed to only make him more skeptical.

She joined the nearest conversation with Amadeus. He and his other friends were recounting a story about a save James made in practice. They all laughed and chimed in with their own comments. She felt suddenly so overwhelmingly out of place. The laughter drowned into a general hum that she couldn’t quite interpret. She just wanted to be out of there.

She slipped away from the conversation just as easily as she slipped into it. The rest of the restaurant was mostly empty which she suspected James had something to do with. He tried to buy out a Cuban restaurant when she mentioned it was a nightmare to get lunch there with all this drama.

Poppi popped out of the restaurant, relieved instantly by the fresh air washing over her face. She froze, halfway out the door, seeing a ton of reporters crowded near a window shoving each other to peep in.

“Here!” A short girl with a pierced nose dragging a cigarette took off her hooded jacket and shoved it into Poppi’s hands. Poppi gaped at the jacket in surprise, unsure of why the girl gave it to her. Were strangers going to start stripping in the street to get her attention?

“Put it on, hood and all.” The girl leaning casually against the wall motioned to the reporters. Poppi understood immediately and pulled the jacket and hood on. It was a disguise!

“I’m Bianca. I’m a line cook here. The vultures are always camped out.” The girl introduced herself offhandedly. Poppi immediately wished she had that same relaxed demeanor. She’d do anything to be that effortlessly cool.

“Vultures?” Poppi asked.

“Paps. Paparazzi. Twits. Vultures. Whatever you’d like to call them.” Bianca listed flippantly.

“Vultures seems apt enough.”

That's exactly what Branwell had called them. That's what she'd been calling them.

“I think so too. They’ll eat you alive though. Maybe hyenas.” Bianca added thoughtfully.

“That Rita Skeeter woman has the exact same laugh too.” Poppi giggled, trying to recreate the hyena laugh. Bianca laughed along.

“It’s hilarious how you’ve been taking them down a notch. Every single time you open your mouth they lose their credibility.” Poppi soaked in the praise from Bianca. She seemed like the kind of girl that went to festivals and made bizarre outfits seem trendy. The kind of girl that could wear electric blue lipstick and still be gorgeous.

“I don’t think that was originally my goal, but they’re seriously driving me mad. Y’know a bunch of them tried to break into my flat to snoop through my stuff?”

“That’s creepy.” Bianca wrinkled her nose with distaste.

“I know!” Poppi exclaimed as Bianca dropped her cigarette to the concrete and stepped on it with a twisting motion.

“Well, I’ve got to get back to work. Want me to walk you back in just in case?” Bianca offered warmly.

“Sure!” She didn’t really want to go back in but she definitely didn’t want to be alone with the vultures circling.

Bianca followed Poppi through the door and escorted her all the way back to the conference room. She hooked Poppi’s arm quickly, pulling her back from rejoining James.

“Be careful. The one over there in the grey suit is a reporter too. He’s here all the time.” She subtly pointed her pinky finger in his direction.

“Really? He’s already tried to chat me up. He gave me totally weird vibes.” Poppi glanced over at the guy she tried to convince earlier that she was James’ bodyguard.

Almost everyone in the room suddenly turned to the pair of girls, noticing Poppi’s presence.

Unwilling to explain to an entire room why she was wearing a ratty jacket with her gown, Poppi gave Bianca an engulfing hug, as if they were old friends, and shrugged the jacket back off.

“Go get ‘em!” Bianca smacked her rear before disappearing.

“Hey! Where’d you get off to? I was looking for you!” James greeted her immediately. His voice sounded like it was laced with laughter but his eyes searched hers intensely.

“I just needed some fresh air. I’m fine. Where’s my drink?” She tried to distract him. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t like his friends. Just meeting them all at once was a little much. She wondered if James had any inkling of how overwhelming his life was.

“I think Amadeus drank it for you. Let’s grab you a new one and go ahead and eat.” With a hand on the small of her back, James guided her to a table near the back of the room with a buffet. She piled her plate high, grabbed a drink, and sat beside James at an empty table.

“The food is great here. The atmosphere is a bit stuffy though.” James told her through a mouthful of roasted potatoes.

“Just a bit.” Poppi answered with a full mouth of her own. Small talk filled their dinner as various people sat down, retold embarrassing stories of James, then left. Poppi tried not to show how exhausted she was. A full shift at the Department of Mysteries sifting through her lit research followed by a half shift at the pub didn’t leave her much energy to lounge on the couch, much less socialize.

“Do you want to get out of here?” James took her hand under the table to pull her attention away from a forced conversation with two of the chasers’ girlfriends.

“Absolutely!” Poppi whispered back. Without another word, James led her out of the room. They carefully stepped out the front door, trying to walk as casually as possible so the vultures didn’t notice. As soon as they were out the door and far enough away that it wasn’t rude, James apparated them back to the apartment. She wondered briefly if James' friends would be offended by their disappearance.

“Which movie do you want to watch now?” James immediately bolted to the television to pick out a movie. This was most of their nights together. Poppi thought that even Rita Skeeter herself wouldn’t be able to turn their movie nights into anything scandalous.

“You pick!” she said standing in front of the television so he had to help unzip her dress before he could start the movie. He fumbled with zipper again, taking his dear sweet time to torment her.

“Hurry up, you cow!” she teased as he pulled the zipper centimeter by centimeter. His thunderous laugh covered the sound of him unzipping it completely.

“Thank you!” she groaned. She dug through the dryer to find clean, comfortable clothes. She pulled on her gym shorts and his cotton Puddlemere shirt that nearly hit her knees. He wouldn’t mind.

“I’m scooping some ice cream. Want some?” she asked digging through the freezer.

James didn’t answer. He had already turned on a movie, likely action by the blaring noise of gunshots and helicopters. One of the first things she learned about him was that once the movies started he was sucked in until the credits. Poppi scooped out a bowl for him anyway. If she didn’t, he’d go ahead and eat her ice cream.

A series of loud knocks on the door startled her so terribly that she nearly dropped the container of ice cream putting it back into the freezer.

“I’ve got it!” she said because James probably hadn’t even registered it. She pulled the door open coming face to face with the one person she’d like to see even less than the reporters. Eva Whitworth.

“James! I just wanted to say–” The blonde she-devil’s mouth hung agape.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Eva roared. Poppi suddenly wished she had her wand on her. Eva seemed to be drawing her own wand as she eyed Poppi’s wardrobe with murderous rage. James sprang to his feet rushing to the door, but Poppi beat him to it.

“No dementors allowed!” She slammed the door shut in Eva’s face.

“That was really mature of you.” James laughed.

“Sorry, if you want to talk to her go ahead. I just can’t stand the shrieking.” Poppi apologized immediately. This wasn’t her flat and she didn’t really have the right to slam doors in faces.

James snorted, cast a _muffliato_ on the door that Eva was trying to bang off the hinges, and sat back down on the couch. Heart still pounding from adrenaline, Poppi grabbed the bowls of ice cream and sat beside James. She couldn’t help but worry what retaliation she’d be facing tomorrow. He threw an arm around her shoulders, eating out of both his ice cream bowl and hers in comfort. Poppi decided that tonight she wouldn’t worry too much.


	5. F I V E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> F I V E

Poppi let out a maniacal cackle at the headline of the paper that James was reading at the marble kitchen island. James narrowed his eyes at her.

_**Poppi Pennington Admits She’s James Potter’s Bodyguard** _

“What part of this is funny to you?” James growled crumpling the paper into a ball and shooting it toward the rubbish bin. He missed which seemed to only make his mood more foul.

“Are you kidding? No one is believing half the rubbish being published anymore. I'm doing you a favor by discrediting the press.” Poppi buttered her toast, remembering the words of Bianca the line cook.

James shot her a skeptical look but a smile played on his lips.

“Really you should be giving me a raise!” she reasoned.

“I'm not paying you.” He rolled his eyes at her.

“You should probably bribe me to keep me quiet.” she encouraged him, pouring some coffee for both of them. He’d add all his rubbish into the coffee on his own. She couldn’t encourage that kind of blasphemy.

“No amount of gold in Gringotts could make you keep your gob shut.” He chuckled, grabbing the piece of toast she had just buttered. He took a large bite out of it and placed it back in her hand. If it had been anyone else, she’d have smacked them silly. James was James though and nothing he did could really upset her. So far at least.

“Fair enough.” There was no way she could argue that. The entire media drama probably would have passed by now if it hadn’t been for her big fat mouth.

“I can’t believe that this twit came as a date of Amadeus’ sister of all people. She’s usually smart enough to check guys out first.” James crumpled the paper ball in his fist as he picked it up to throw it away properly before returning to his seat.

“To be fair, I think a lot of people would have found him charming.” Poppi didn’t want James to be pissed at the girl for a common mistake. The dating scene is iffy enough without those kinds of hidden agendas to account for.

“Not you though?” James tucked his hand under his chin, watching her carefully.

“Not in the slightest. Between those eyebrows and that attitude I was just trying not to hex him. I promised you after all.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought of it.

“Well, we could have made an exception.” His lips turned up ever so slightly. She liked him when he did that. He looked like he was fighting the urge to break out in that big dorky grin.

“I didn’t know he was one of them at the time!”

“Hey, you get off at three right?” James asked out of the blue.

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m off at 2:30. I thought we could go to the beach for the weekend. If you’re up for it of course.” James rubbed the back of his neck as he chewed on his lower lip.

“That sounds lovely! Which beach?” Poppi started mentally listing all of the major beaches that wizardkind tended to visit.

“You remember my cousin, Louis?”

“The auror one that kept raiding my refrigerator when he was meant to be guarding my flat?” She personally found him a bit useless but liked him well enough. He was more or less like an insatiable overgrown puppy. 

“That’s him. Well his parents live on a cottage by the beach over in Tinworth and they are currently in France so they wouldn’t mind if we stayed for the weekend. It’s pretty isolated so we could have a break from the tabloids.” James enticed her.

“If you’re sure they wouldn’t mind–” She would love a break from everyone and to get away from James’ flat. He had a serious bout of cabin fever and him going mad was driving her mad.

“They won’t. I’ll owl Uncle Bill right now.” He stood up abruptly, taking the remainder of her toast with him.

 

“Is it true that you’re expecting?” A pearly toothed reporter shoved a camera in her face as she walked to the Department of Mysteries.

“Expecting you to get out of my face so I can go to work? Absolutely.” Poppi didn’t read that headline about herself yet so she was definitely taken by surprise. She knew it would be bad, but at this point she didn’t really care. Every single time she retaliated it just satisfied that witch of an ex. She didn’t want to play the games anymore.

Level Nine, also known as the Department of Mysteries, seemed to be humming with energy. The Love Room had apparently made a huge breakthrough, the likes of which hadn't been seen in ages. Of course, being Unspeakables, no one actually knew for certain what the breakthrough actually was.

“Poppi! Ready to get started?” Branwell greeted her when she entered the office. The office was the hub of the department. The large circular room was lined with cubicles each with an oversized desk for interns and trainees to work on their research. Everything was black and identical. When research was not in progress, it was mandatory to lock all papers in an impenetrable filing cabinet. Interns mostly fetched research papers for projects they have little information on. If interns aren’t offered a position as a trainee, their memory is wiped but their resumé is padded.

Besides the doors leading to the hallway and the loo, each unmarked door on the wall lead to another room for solving life’s greatest mysteries. The Brain Room, the Space Chamber, the Death Chamber, the Time Chamber, the Hall of Prophecy, and the Love Chamber. In that order. It was imperative to learn the unmarked doors your first day on the job or you’ll be erased assuming something terrible doesn’t happen to you by accident.

Poppi followed Branwell to the door that lead to the Time Chamber. The beautiful, dancing light of the sun streamed in from the oculus in the center of the room, illuminating all of the time devices. Clocks, sundials, candles, hourglasses, water clocks, pendulum clocks, and weird contraptions that even Poppi didn't understand or recognize lined the tables and shelves of the room. The Time Chamber was remarkable.

“Welcome to your new office.” Branwell pushed open another door.

Poppi’s research papers were stacked, not in the cabinet. Several books were lined neatly on the shelves. A laboratory bench was set up along the wall, lined with tissue wells, various labelled chemicals, and a freezer to fill tissue samples.

“This is all mine?” Poppi asked slightly intimidated. She'd gotten used to her cubicle.

“All yours! Jameson said your proposal was thorough and brilliant. The door is imperius proof. You must be alive, well, and clear of any curses to walk through the door. Enjoy the promotion!” Branwell broke out into a wide grin.

“Promotion?” Poppi repeated in surprise.

“The department is proud to welcome you as the latest Unspeakable.” Branwell closed the door behind him.

“Unspeakable!” Poppi squealed when she was alone, whirling around in her chair until she was dizzy. She glanced around her office again, taking it all in. It was brilliant and lovely and most importantly hers. She couldn’t help but wonder if her mother would be proud.

She sat down at her new desk and rolled out a giant piece of parchment. First things first, she wanted to map out the general knowledge of the circadian rhythm in mammals, particularly humans. She sketched out a large, slightly misshapen circle and drew a crude Vitruvian Man in the middle of the page.

She labelled each of the 24 hours quickly. At 02:00, sleep would be the deepest. At 04:30, the lowest body temperature was achieved. At 07:30, melatonin secretion stops. At 14:30, the best coordination was available. At 15:30, reaction time was the fastest. At 17:00, the most muscle strength was available, along with cardiovascular efficiency. At 21:00, melatonin secretion began again. She filled in all of the remaining highpoints, flipping through the highlighted sections of her research papers. She checked her watch, laughing at the fact that she was using a watch in the Time Chamber of all places. Two hours zipped by before she had known it.

She thought the best use of her remaining day would be to map out her exact project down to the last detail. She’d need to visit the Brain Room, her second choice if she had the option to decide where she worked. In the Brain Room, she could obtain living samples of suprachiasmatic nuclei (called SCN by everyone since no one liked tongue twisters) from humans. The SCN was the groups of cells in the hypothalamus of the brain that controlled the internal clock. She shuddered to think where the samples came from.

After she obtained some samples, she’d test several modification methods and see what exactly did they change. Based on the research that had been done by other scientists and Unspeakables, she decided to focus on phosphorylation, histone acetylation, methylation, and ubiquitination. For each experiment she listed every compound she’d need to complete the study, down to the deionized water. The less she had to run around and look for stuff the less contaminated her study would be. With the list compiled and her methods planned out, she realized she got off work twenty-five minutes ago.

“James?” Poppi froze upon recognizing the shadowy figure with stubble leaning casually outside the hallway of the Department of Mysteries.

“I packed for you. I was going mad in the flat.” James grinned sheepishly, holding up her weekend bag.

“You packed for me or your mother did?” she teased.

“Irrelevant!” He nudged her toward the Ministry fireplaces.

She stepped into one fireplace and out another fireplace. James grinned at her, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Welcome to Shell Cottage!" He gestured to the family room they were standing in.

"It's so... _lovely_ ," Poppi said decidedly, glancing around. The walls were creamy and textured with occasional seashell embedded into the trim. Everything was neat and organized. The furniture looked effortlessly elegant with curved legs and fluffed cushions. The walls were lined with full sized windows seeping the warm light in.

“Yeah, I’ve thought about letting Aunt Fleur just come ransack my flat so I don’t have to decorate it.” James beamed.

“I second that. It’s like museum there.” Poppi agreed. His place was elegant and obviously nice but it didn’t feel like a home.

“You could do it if you want,” James said quietly without making eye contact. He was carrying her bag up the stairs, her following him blindly.

“Decorate your flat for you?” she asked with surprise.

“Yeah. I mean you’re there too. Might as well make it feel more homey.” He shrugged effortlessly.

“Yeah, but I won’t be there for long. Just until this blows over.” She knitted her eyebrows together. James pushed open the door to an off-white guest bedroom. James frowned but said nothing. He sat down on the bed, creasing the floral duvet. "Would you rather grab a bite to eat or go ahead and walk down to the beach?"

She broke out into a grin. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Well get changed then!” James grabbed his bag and carried it out of her room.

She quickly pulled her clothes off and dug through her bag for a swimsuit. She guffawed at the monstrosity that Ginny Potter had packed for her. First and foremost, it was most definitely not hers as she’d never buy anything as inappropriate. She noticed that the tag had been torn off, but the small plastic barb that had held the tag on remained. She dug through the bag to find her own swimsuit, but instead only found a hand scribbled note.

_**Quit complaining and go have fun.** _

**_xx Gin_ **

She snorted loudly. There was a slight chance that James’ mother might be trying to coerce her into something with her eldest. No pressure or anything.

“Merlin, are you seriously not ready yet?” James’ voice echoed outside her door.

“Your mother bought me a new swimmer. Prepare your eyes.” Poppi announced, cringing at her overly exposed body in the mirror.

“It can’t be that bad–bloody hell!” His eyes were like saucers as she opened the door. His eyes roamed her body but he had the decency to at least blush a bit.

“Shut it. Let’s go.” Poppi decided to try to ignore his bare chest. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him running around half naked all over the flat. She couldn’t help but think maybe Ginny was on to something.

“Right behind you!” He grinned cheekily. She didn’t understand his tone until she glanced behind her halfway down the worn path to the beach. He was certainly staring at her arse.

“Eyes up here, wanker!” she growled, blush creeping up.

“I was just admiring the hydrangeas. What are you talking about?” He winked, catching up to her short strides. While there were blue hydrangeas lining the white picket fence along the path, they weren’t anywhere near where he was staring.

The sweet, salty air hit her like a wall. She breathed in deeply, eyes fluttering closed with the breeze. She slowly opened her eyes, James in front of her staring at her with a funny look on his face.

"You're something else, you know that?" A soft smile played at his lips.

"Race you!" Poppi challenged, dashing to the water. James threw his head back in laughter before sprinting after her, passing her quickly. He turned around as he ran by her, taunting her.

“You’re going to trip!” She pointed to a large rock behind him that he was running right toward. Expertly he hopped right over it, still not turning around. She gasped but he just smirked.

“I’m a natural born athlete!” he bragged. He beat her into the warm water, but she leaped onto him, trying to dunk him under the waves.

He lifted her up into the air, holding her tightly by the waist before splashing her under the water. She resurfaced sputtering saltwater and looking murderous. He looked concerned for a moment, but she dipped back under the water. The water was too murky to see exactly where she went so he spun around a bit. She broke through the surface, climbing onto his shoulder, legs wrapped tightly around him.

“You’re going down, Potter!” She giggled, pulling him backwards into the water. He spun around under the water, facing her. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist as his hands found her sides. He tickled her mercilessly, causing her to scream and thrash underwater. They floated to the surface, him laughing, her coughing between laughs.

“You’re a cruel man!” she accused, bouncing buoyantly beside him.

“Have you ever jumped off a cliff?” James suddenly asked her. She was busy counting his freckles across his nose.

“Go jump off a cliff, Potter.” she murmured.

“That’s what I’m suggesting.” James waggled his eyebrows.

“You’re not serious are you?” Poppi’s eyes widened. She was quite happy with being alive and had no intention of changing that so soon. Especially not with her promotion.

“I”m James Sirius Pott–” He began his joke before she interrupted him.

“Nope! You can only use that joke 237 times before it’s expired.” She covered his mouth with her hand. He licked her hand.

“Mmm, salty.” He smirked wolfishly.

“You’re vile.” She wrinkled her nose but snickered.

“Come on!” He laced his fingers with hers, pulling her out of the ocean with him.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see!” He kept her hand in his as they jogged up a small hill.

“We aren’t literally going to–” Poppi didn’t think he’d really jump off a cliff, but he took off running toward the edge of the cliff, dragging her along with him.

“Dammit James!” she screamed as they went over the edge of the cliff. He yelled too, but his seemed to be more out of the primal thrill. With a loud smack they both plunged under the water.

“That was…” she began, trying to find the words.

“Awesome?” he supplied, slicking his messy wet hair back.

“Terrifying!” she laughed.

“Wanna do it again?” He swam to her.

“Absolutely!”

With copious saltwater up their nostrils and enough adrenaline coursing through their veins, they decided that a fire on the beach would be a good way to end the evening. Poppi built the fire using dried driftwood stacked precariously against the shed while James made dinner for them to share.

“Can’t go wrong with fish and chips!” James said, levitating two plates back to the fire that Poppi was stoking.

“Thank Merlin, I’m starving!” She smiled softly at him, gazing at him as he joined her on her beach towel which was keeping the sand fleas at bay temporarily. They ate in relative silence, watching the flames flicker as they downed a bottle of malbec. When they both were stuffed and decidedly bloated, James vanished the plates and glasses back to the kitchen of the cottage.

“The sun is going down, let’s sit in the tide.” Poppi suggested. James trailed behind her. She plopped down on the damp sand, the foaming tide rushing in to meet her toes. James settled in beside her.

“Do you ever think about how old we suddenly we are? It's like everyone I know is getting married and having kids and I'm just here debating the flavors of ice cream I want when we go back in, y'know?" Poppi asked suddenly. She didn’t know why she had brought it up.

“I think a lot of people are jumping into relationships because of convenience or because it's easy. Not because they are in love.” James mused darkly.

The tide rushed to their calves, bringing sand swirling around her ankles. She noticed that their hands had wound together again. She didn’t recall giving her fingers permission to intertwine with his.

“They are fine with love that just laps up now and then like the tide. I want to drown in it. I want it to pull me under and never let me crawl back out.” James explained glancing sideways at Poppi before looking back at the sun setting on the horizon.

“That sounds intense.” Poppi considered him carefully.

“Isn’t that what love is meant to be?” James asked without a trace of his usual smirk.

“Sometimes, but I think it’s mostly meant to just be having fun with someone.” She bit her lip.

“I have a lot of fun with you.” James leaned in toward her face. Before she realized it, she was leaning closer to his face too, heart racing. The scent of the salty air couldn’t drown the smell of his cologne. Their noses brushed and her mind went blank. She could feel the warmth radiating off his plump lips.

Suddenly she let out a strangled scream, hopping up and away from him. He jumped up too but with more composure than her. The tide decided to sweep up their bodies and had startled her. He pulled her into his chest, chuckling.

“There’s never a dull moment with you around.” His lips brushed her ear, sending shivers shooting down her spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi there! I can’t decide if the next chapter should be day two of the beach or the chapter I planned out at James’ quidditch match. What say you, lovely readers? Thank you for the lovely reviews and for taking the time to read! It means so much! I’m exhausted (it's 3 am) and I’m posting this so chances are I’ll have to edit this all over again. Let me know what you think about the *ahem* developments. :)
> 
> Also, you should know that I've done a _ton_ of research on the biological clock for this story (using scientific papers, gosh nabbit) so YES I'm making you learn! I'm an evil biologist! Mwahahaha.


	6. S I X

“Up, up, up!” James bounced on her bed at what she presumed to be the crack of dawn. After bidding James ‘good night’ last night, she spent most of the dark hours agonizing over what in the world was going on between the two of them. Was something even going on? Was she making more out of it? Did she want something to be going on? Why the hell did he almost kiss her? Why did she almost kiss him? Her thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling long enough for her eyelids to flutter close.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” Poppi hissed at the morning person on top of her. If she’d been anymore awake she’d probably further agonize about that development.

“We are doing sunrise yoga on the beach,” James said dreamily.

“The hell we are.” Poppi rolled on her stomach, groaning into her pillow.

“Okay you caught me. I lied. Still, I have something planned.” James tugged on her covers.

“Plan it for three hours from now.” she pleaded. She could feel disappointment radiating off him. She moved her head from under the pillow and cracked an eye at him. He was pouting. She almost laughed. Almost. She ducked her head back under her pillow, determined to catch just a few more hours of sleep.

“We’ve got plans, Poppi!” James ducked his head under her pillow. She could barely make out the shape of his face, but she felt his warm breath dancing across her skin. Nice and minty. She decided he had no concept of personal boundaries.

“Plans to sleep in.” Poppi insisted. He sighed, but laid down with his hands behind his head.

“Don’t you want to know what my plans are?” James pouted a little more.

“I’m sure whatever they are they’re brilliant and can wait a few hours.”

“Fine. I’ll just stay here and wait for you to wake up.” He huffed dramatically. Relieved that he gave up and she could get a few more minutes, she closed her eyes again drifting back toward sleep. He huffed again, causing her skin to prickle. Her eyes fluttered open again. He fidgeted ever so slightly. She stayed still, head under her pillow hoping to drown out the sounds and fidgeting. He huffed again.

“FINE.” she growled, pushing the blankets and pillows away from her grumpily.

“Oh! You’re awake are you?” James smiled coyly.

“I hate your guts.” she growled, pulling herself from the bed. The chilly floorboards made her even grumpier.

“I’ll just be making breakfast.” He hurried out of the room. She smiled when he left. He was, after all, very adorable. That didn’t mean she had feelings for him though. No, she was going to be professional about the whole thing. They were only in this mess and this cottage because of her big mouth. He probably didn’t even feel anything at all for her. He probably only wanted to hook up for the ease of it. I mean she’s already there, why not?

The shower water was scalding but it refreshed her aching bones. Getting old was hell. After towel drying her hair and smearing on the barest amount of makeup and waffling about her romantic status, Poppi descended the stairs to breakfast. James had a splay of a full breakfast across the table. The bacon had her salivating before she even sat down.

“So what’s this big day you have planned out?” Poppi asked as she shoveled food into her mouth.

“Poppi Penelope Pennington, will you go on a proper date with me today?” James surveyed her with a strangely concentrated stare.

Her heart hammered in her chest, beating into her thoracic cavity like it had been doing so often lately. If he just wanted an easy hook up would he bother to take her on what he classified as a proper date? Surely not. Hell, she established last night that she didn't even think she had feelings for him. She barely knew anything at all about him.

She sat thoughtfully a moment, debating on what she should tell him. Her silence resulted in a weird strangled noise from his throat.

“James,” she started slowly with a frown, “You should know something about me first.” In reality there were several things he should know about her before he decided to embark on such a task.

He audibly swallowed despite not having anything in his mouth. He knew it was all too good to be true.

“What is it?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s Eleanor. Not Penelope.” She broke out into a grin. Maybe it was cruel but she thoroughly enjoyed his temporary misery in that moment.

He chuckled softly and let out a sigh of relief. “I’m severely disappointed by this development. What about your answer to the other thing though?” He placed emphasis on the word ‘thing’.

“I suppose since I’m already awake at this ungodly hour we might as well make a day of it.” She replied casually despite her racing heart and mind.

“Splendid!” He smiled broadly, finally digging into his own breakfast.

“So what are we doing today?” she asked again. She had a proper date with James Potter and she really needed a good half hour to have the proper anxiety attack over it but she did her best to seem cool and collected.

“It’s a surprise!” He grinned mischievously.

“You’re the worst.”

“You know, you make make my cheeks hurt,” he said rubbing his cheeks in a circular motion. “What with all this flattery. I can’t stop smiling.”

“I’ll show you flattery!” She meant it as a threat but it really didn’t come out as one.

“Oh do go on! I’m the worst, you hate my guts, whisper those sweet nothings across the table! Don’t hold back!” He winked at her shamelessly.

“Boy, you sure are cheeky today!” she commented. His lips tipped up in a small smile but he levitated her plate away to the sink without another word.

She realized, after seeing the clock in the kitchen, that the hour that she had deemed ungodly was after midday.

“You let me sleep so late!” She grumbled at James as they left Shell Cottage.

“You’re on me if I wake you up or if I don’t wake you up! I don’t see how I’m meant to win!” James whined.

“What makes you think you’re meant to win at all?” Her laugh was infectious.

“Are you calling me a loser?” He tried to ask with a straight face.

“Not my words but if the shoe fits!” she replied flippantly.

“You’re a cruel person, Ms. Pennington.” He teased.

“It’s almost like you didn’t already know that.”

They walked with arms bumping into each other and hands brushing together every once and awhile down the cobblestone path that lead into town. Despite being further from the ocean, the sweet, salty smell of the warm ocean air still enveloped her.

They waited at the small tram stop for a few minutes before a bright green one slid along the line in front of them.

“Am I wasting my breath to ask again where we are going?” she asked as they boarded the tram.

He grinned, paying for their trip to wherever they were going.

“I think it’s proper date protocol for you to reply to me instead of just grinning cheekily every time I open my mouth.”

“I was under the impression you enjoyed my cheekiness.” He finally responded as they settled into seats beside each other.

“You thought wrong.”

He smiled wider but said nothing. She rolled her eyes, waiting impatiently until the tram stopped again. She glanced at him hopefully but he didn’t move. No one else got on and the tram continued. It wasn’t until three stops later that James finally got up. She glanced out the door, realizing that they were still by the beach but this time along a strip full of shops and amusement attractions.

"A boardwalk isn't too terrible for a first date, right?" James asked more himself than her.

“Not too terrible at all!” She grinned. She pocketed her hand in his, pulling him toward the boardwalk. Despite it being unreasonably humid and the sun bearing down, the boardwalk was very much alive with locals and tourists alike.

The first thing she spotted was a very large carousel laced with flashing lights and mirrors and every sort of animal imaginable to ride on.

“We have to go on the carousel first!” She insisted.

“Alright, alright! Whatever you’d like! First I need to get the tickets.” He led them to a small booth, exchanging money for cardboard ticket stubs. She offered to pay her half, even insisting on it, but he threatened to hex her if she didn’t put her pocketbook away.

Tickets in one hand, her hand in the other, he followed her excitedly to the carousel.

“I can’t decide if I’d rather ride the bear or the stag.” She deliberated aloud while waiting in line. His face shaded bright pink and he choked a little, triggering her to thump his back viciously.

“Are you alright?” she asked when he finally breathed again.

“Yeah, yeah. Just...breathed funny,” he said finally. She looked at him questioningly but didn’t pursue it, much to his pleasure.

“I think I’d rather ride the stag.” She decided when they reached the ticket handler. His ears tinged pink but she didn’t seem to notice.

She climbed on the stag and he settled for a poorly painted tiger. Through the terrible jewelry box music and the nauseating speed, she beamed. He felt relieved that she seemed to be enjoying herself, but mostly delighted that she was smiling like that because of their date. The spinning slowed too soon, but she was off her stag and over to him before it came to a stop.

“What now?” She glanced about as the boardwalk swirled around them.

“What do you want to do?” He just wanted her to keep smiling at him like that.

“I chose last time. I can’t be expected to make all the decisions around here!”

“How about the ferris wheel?” He suggested.

“No, no! That has to be the last thing we do!” She insisted. She didn’t have any particular reason for insisting it but it seemed right.

“Okay then, how about the rollercoaster over there.” He pointed across the walk to the small, less than thrilling looking ride with a very inaccurate dragon face on the first cart.

“Perfect!” They sped over while the wait was short.

“Chase the Dragon” he snorted aloud, reading the name of the ride.

“Does that mean something to you?” He shook his head, inwardly laughing.

The ticket handler strapped them in, which he found a bit unnecessary, and they waited for the rest of the line to be strapped in.

“This is really fun, James.” Poppi faced him seriously.

“Worth being woken up?” He smirked.

“Don’t push your luck.”

The cart began to move on the rickety track with a jolt. They slowly climbed the first peak, building potential energy with every meter higher and higher. As the cart slowed near the apex, Poppi threw her hands into the air. James glanced at her, grinning broadly and did the same. The cart suddenly transferred all of that energy into kinetic energy as the cart raced down the slope. Poppi squeaked in delight with many of the children in the carts behind them.

They leaned side to side as the cart veered to follow the track. They flew through a dark tunnel, then emerged only to spiral upside down. Poppi let out a full on scream filled with joy. The ride twisted again and then climbed a much smaller peak. James put his hands up again with Poppi, feeling his stomach flip as they rocketed down the slope. The valley evened out into a flat track and they slowed to a stop on the ramp where they got on.

“We’ve got to do that again!” Poppi exclaimed. It wasn’t a particularly impressive rollercoaster but he was so content that she had enjoyed it. When the ticket handler came to unbuckle them she informed him they’d be going again as there wasn’t much a line. The handler, who seemed less than enthused to be alive, didn’t even ask for another set of tickets and continued to the back of the carts to unbuckle other customers. The second rollercoaster ride James spent more time observing Poppi enjoying it than enjoying it himself.

“That was awesome,” she said decidedly when they wandered the boardwalk for their next amusement. She slowed in front of a candy floss vendor in a neon pink cart and slowly glanced at James with a wicked grin. He gestured at it, telling her to go ahead and get what she wants.

“I’ll have a cone of blue candy floss, please.”

“You know they all taste the same regardless of the color.” A bored teenage boy working the cart informed her as he filled the order. She gasped.

“They do not! I’ll have you know I’m quite sweet savvy and blue flavored candy is always infinitely better than any other color.”

“Blue isn’t even a flavor.”

She gasped again, grabbing her cone indignantly.

“The nerve of him!” James tried to say seriously. He had a feeling that she was truly offended.

“Right?” She asked rhetorically in confirmation as she bit into the floss.

“Hey, let’s stop in here!” James exclaimed as they passed a store front.

“A comic shop?” she asked, causing him to grin sheepishly.

“Don’t go telling everyone. I’ve got a massive collection in the flat.” James lowered his voice.

“Where? I’ve snooped through everything!” She wasn’t remotely embarrassed to admit it. She was a bit nosey.

“Under the mattress!” James bashfully.

“You keep your comic book collection under your bed? What’re you? Nine?” She teased but followed him into the shop eating her candy floss.

“I’m actually going on ten in a few months!” He stuck his tongue out at her while browsing the front displays.

“Your secret is safe with me!” She laughed.

“I’m holding you to that.” James insisted in an uncharacteristically serious tone. 

“Unless someone offers me a better deal. Or I’m held at wandpoint. Or I meet a really handsome reporter that seduces the information out of me. Or if aliens probe my mind. You know what? I don’t think I can promise I’ll keep your secret after all. Too many variables.”

He snorted and shook his head. She followed him around the store, listening as he told her all about his favorite comic books and spoiling the plots for her. She found a comic that she insisted he add to his collection. The premise involved nuns in a post-apocalyptic world battling evils using martial arts. He consented but she had a feeling it wasn’t going to join his regular reads under the bed. As long as it didn’t find its way to the rubbish bin.

When they left the shop, she threw away the empty paper cone that had contained her candy floss moments before. She licked her sticky fingers trying to remove the remaining sugar. She unfortunately made eye contact with James as she did so, causing him to wiggle his eyebrows at her.

“So alluring.” he murmured as she whacked him on the arm.

“Everything I do is alluring,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You’re telling me!” James said with a straight face.

She blushed bright red.

“I mean the other day when you dribbled your tea right down your chin because you were falling asleep at dinner! I could hardly contain myself! I’d have taken you right then and there if I weren’t such a gentleman!”

He earned a much harder whack on the arm at that.

“I can’t even speak openly about my affections without you _assaulting_ me!” He rubbed his arm.

“You’re vile!” She laughed between words.

“And I’m the worst and you have some sort of prejudice against my intestines. Tell me more, darling!” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as he spoke.

She rolled her eyes but walked much closer to him. The rational part of her brain said that it was because it made it easier to walk. The less rational part of her brain would redirect you to the fluttering in her stomach and smirk smugly.

They finally slowed in front of a ride that was meant to simulate a rocket. James handed over the tickets for them to board the platform. They sat in uncomfortable seats that had grown hot with the late afternoon sun.

The ticket handler pulled an equally hot harness down on their chest. James seemed much more excited about the ride than Poppi.

“I know that this isn’t going to happen, but my brain keeps saying that there’s a real possibility this seat is going to dislodge from the ride and I’m going to fly into space and suffocate.” She told him when he inquired about her pale face.

“I promise you won’t fly off into space.” He reassured her, trying not to laugh too much.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!” She laughed weakly.

With a thrust of force, the seats rocketed toward the sky, Poppi’s squawk of alarm chasing behind them. As they reached the top she finally laughed before they dropped suddenly, eliciting another squawk. Poppi’s bottom lifted slightly out of the seat as they were in freefall, but the harness held her in place. Her stomach felt like it had jumped to her head. James snickered. Halfway to the bottom of the tower they shot back up. This pattern repeated for a few minutes before they sunk back to the platform and were ushered away.

“I didn’t love that one.” She laughed as she rubbed her shoulders that were sure to be bruised a bit tomorrow.

“I thought it was excellent! Sorry you didn’t get to go to space though!” James made fun of her irrational fear.

“You think you’re hilarious.” Poppi sneered at him.

“I know I’m hilarious.” James replied confidently, ruffling his already messy hair.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll get us some ice lollies if you win me something over there in the game booths.” She challenged when she saw the lolly vendor.

“You’re on!” He agreed.

She got a strawberry cream flavored ice lolly and he chose a blueberry and pineapple flavored one. The lowering sun caused the lolly to begin to bead as soon as it was out of the ice locker.

“Which game do you want me to try?” he asked her meandering through the tents.

“How about Down the Clown? Or maybe that one there where you have to throw the ball through the hole?” She pointed at a few of them.

“I’d rather Down the Clown.” He decided, paying several tickets to the crooked grinning carnival hand.

“Impress me with those quidditch skills you’re always on about!” She giggled, forgetting about the muggle beside them.

“Keep in mind I’m a keeper, not a chaser or beater.” He said eyeing the thing apprehensively.

The worker pulled a crank and the three rows of clowns began swaying back and forth. He had to knock over at least three of them to win her something, one from each row plus an extra one for the large prize.

He squeezed the first ball and pitched it as hard as he could, knocking over the middle clown on the first row. Poppi squealed in delight. He grinned, trying not to be too cocky. He pulled his arm back to hit the second row. It downed the third clown over. She waited with bated breath for him to throw the last ball. He centered the last ball between two of the moving clowns and waited for the opportune moment. He nailed the ball into the side of one clown, dropping it completely, but the other clown only knocked halfway back.

“Better luck next time, mate. Pick which regular prize you’d like.” The worked pushed a stuffed lizard and a stuffed banana at him.

“Rubbish! He knocked both of them down, you’ve just got it rigged!” Poppi protested as she grabbed her stuffed lizard. James shrugged good naturedly as she tugged him away from the booths.

“Couldn’t get me a proper stuffed bear, could you Potter?” She snorted, holding the very ugly lizard tightly all the same.

“I’m a sorry excuse of a man, Poppi. Forgive me!” He clutched his heart with an earnest look that made her dissolve into fits of laughter.

After strolling aimlessly, they ended up underneath a pier on the beach. She plopped down on the sand and he sat down beside her. He was telling her about Amadeus’ pregame ritual, which was extensive to say the least. He was very, very superstitious too and a reserve actually got kicked off the team last year for messing up his pregame ritual as a prank that ended up throwing a game that should have been an easy win.

James glanced down at his watch. “It’s completely up to you and I know it’s getting a bit late but they’re supposed to have a movie on the beach in twenty minutes if you’re up for it.”

“I’ve never seen a movie on a beach, that sounds really cool.” Poppi was excited at the prospect. She had felt excited all day. The energy around James seemed to keep her heart racing and her mind muddled.

“Brilliant, let’s get going then!”

They joined a bunch of families and couples and kids sprawled out on beach towels and blankets. There was a giant blow up screen that was easily the size of a building already set up perpendicular to the beach.

“Pick us a spot, I’ll be right back.” James told her. She settled down in an unoccupied spot squinting to see where he’d gone off too. A few minutes later he came back with a cheap knitted blanket and a box of popcorn.

The movie was about an animated firefly whose light organ stopped working and had to go on a journey of self discovery and battle centipedes for some reason. It was awful, but leaning against James, smelling the salty air, eating buttery popcorn, she couldn’t really find anything to complain about. Further down the beach, not more than a kilometer, fireworks erupted across the sky, dancing across it like lightning. Everyone seemed to ignore the movie and “ooh” and “ah” over the fireworks instead.

“Alright, you insisted we save the best for last!” He said as they meandered away from the few muggles remaining at the boardwalk.

The ferris wheel loomed over them, glowing neon and flashing dizzying patterns and revolving slowly. James handed the ticket handler the last of their tickets. The rusty green cabin dipped as they clambered in.

“We’re going to need tetanus shots when we get back to town!” James joked glancing at the streak of orange rust on his hand from pulling himself in. A streak of orange fireworks danced across the sky after the words left his mouth and they both laughed.

As the cabin revolved sluggishly, the conversation was light. James murmuring jokes about the movie or the dragon ride mostly. Every stop closer to the apex brought some new tension and Poppi wasn’t exactly sure what the tension was about. James didn’t look her in the eye like he so often did, but rather stared out at the ocean. Her gaze followed his, watching the waves crash gently against the shoreline.

The cabin moved for the stop at the top and James’ gaze turned back to her. He had a funny look about him like he was a bundle of nerves and suddenly Poppi realized why exactly.

His eyes flicked only momentarily to her lips before he leaned in. She leaned in too, ignoring her racing heart and possible rabbits in her stomach doing backflips. His lips met hers and she barely registered anything else in the world other than that incendiary feeling of being with him. His hand wound into her hair and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Their lips met for only a few moments but she’d found that the brief kiss was more explosive in every way than the fireworks she’d found wondrous just minutes before.

He reluctantly pulled away from her and the cabin wobbled as it went to the next stop.

“That was…” he began searching for words.

“A very good first date,” she said shakily.

“Only good?” He pretended to be offended.

“Top ten for sure.” She teased him.

She leaned her head onto shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her. Neither of them wanted to leave their spot on the ferris wheel, but neither wanted to miss the tram and have to walk all the way back to Shell Cottage either. She was certain that she'd spend the rest of her night thoroughly agonizing this far too sudden development in her relationship with the entire Potter family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had planned to properly edit this but I only did a quick edit instead. I'm headed to the beach myself this week so I've been in a rush to get everything done! Thank you so much for all of your helpful input on where this chapter should go. I hope you are all pleased with it. The next chapter will be at the Puddlemere quidditch match with the ENTIRETY of the Weasley/Potters. Yay for finally meeting Lily! Please review! Your feedback means everything to me!


	7. S E V E N

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--

She licked her chapped lips as she turned to face her new intern. She didn’t much like having an intern, especially one that hovered as much as this one did. It made her nervous. It didn’t help that she kept forgetting his name. He looked a lot like a Simon, but she was pretty sure his name was Thorin or Ciro or something equally as stupid. Was Ignacio a name? It could have been that. She checked her watch. She’d only have to talk to him for fifteen more minutes before she was free to go to James’ Quidditch game.

“Remind me your name again?” She asked the gangly boy hovering over her shoulder.

“Sylvester.” He answered her for the umpteenth time today with only a hint of attitude. She was not a fan of attitude. It didn’t help that he had already told her he couldn’t quite remember what chromatin was.

“That’s a cat’s name.” She told him absentmindedly, adding topoisomerase I to keep the DNA relaxed.

“I know Branwell assigned you here, but how much do you know about posttranslational modification?” She asked Sylvester the cat.

“Uh, I mean I know a bit.” He hummed, drumming his hands on his corduroy pants. She thought about when she was a lowly intern (less than a week ago) and softened her tone. She could tell him later that corduroy was never suitable in this sort of work place.

“If I say histone acetylation and deacetylation, what do you think of?” She asked him in a strained attempt at a kindly voice. He shrugged.

“I’ll be honest, I really don’t know much about what you’re going on about.” He answered with a shy smile.

“That’s okay. We’ll get you caught up. How do you feel about spaghetti?” She asked him. He seemed taken aback immediately.

“Oh Merlin, I’m not asking you out.” Poppi rolled her own eyes. Gangly little shit thinking he was that alluring.

“Uh, okay, well I eat it.” He muttered bewildered.

“Excellent. Okay, the DNA is like the noodles of the spaghetti. The histone proteins–there's eight of them–are like the meatballs. Say you like to eat your meatballs and spaghetti at the same time because you’re efficient like that. So you'll take your fork and wrap your DNA noodles around your histone meatballs. Now the noodles are shorter because most of the noodle is wrapped around the meatball. The more spooled the DNA noodles are around the histone meatballs, the better you can fit the entire genome of spaghetti on the plate. Now that we only have the little tail ends of the spaghetti left sticking off the meatball, that's the part we can modify. We could add some parmesan to it, if you’d like. The parmesan sticks to that part of the noodle because it’s the part that is exposed and available for some good cheesing.”

“Uh. Okay.” He murmured.

“So basically the acetylation, which is the first posttranslational modification of the spaghetti tail is what we are looking at and it occurs on the N-terminal amino groups and on the the lysine ε-amino groups. By tomorrow I want you to read my source papers here so we can have a semi-intelligent conversation about all of this. Trust me, it’ll take weeks to completely absorb it.” She handed him a stack of papers to read by reputable authors, including reviews (which save lives).

She bade him goodbye before he could ask her any questions, hurrying out of her shiny new office as fast as she could.

“Poppi!” Her ears perked at her name, surprised not just that it was coming from the mouth of Harry Potter, but that it was in such a scolding tone.

“Yes?” She asked bewildered slowing her pace as she approached Harry and Branwell. Harry was still dressed in his Auror robes so he must have only just gotten off work.

“Poppi! Why didn’t you say anything about your promotion?” Harry asked sounding slightly hurt.

“The less people that know about it, the better!” She laughed, hoping to lighten that hurt in his voice. She didn’t mean anything by not telling them. Harry conceded with a nod but still chastised her the entire way to the Ministry fireplaces. They dashed floo powder into the grate and stopped by the Potter Manor to change for the big game.

She ran upstairs to the guest room where Ginny laid out a Puddlemere jersey and denim shorts she must have grabbed from her closet at James’ flat. She smeared the blue and gold face paint that Ginny had left out for her across her cheeks, looking thoroughly spirited. People would mistake her for an actual quidditch fan if they didn’t ask too many questions!

She met Harry at the stairwell covered in almost identical garb, down to the POTTER 06 jersey. She laughed and smeared gold and blue streaks across Harry’s face as well, determined to not be the only person to look like a fool.

Harry and Poppi were escorted into a V.I.P. box that was decked out in Puddlemere blue by a very surly looking man with muscles as big as her entire body. Poppi liked the very surly looking man because even though she could see several people with cameras facing her way, she didn’t see a single flash. He was very intimidating. She shielded her eyes for a moment to adjust to all the blue and tensed when she saw a fiery redhead sprinting full speed ahead at them.

“Brace yourself.” Harry murmured and so she did her best to steel herself.

The redhead flung herself on Poppi, knocking them both straight to the ground with a miserably hard thud. She blinked a few times, stars dancing across her vision. The first time she meets James’ baby sister and she’s probably got a mild concussion. Brilliant.

“Oh! Poppi! It’s so good to finally meet you!” She squealed with her brown eyes glimmering.

“You must be Lily!” Poppi laughed, gasping for air. Lily hopped up quickly and pulled her up. Poppi dusted herself off.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” Lily told her, guiding her to her seat. She sat between Ginny and Lily, Harry giving her a very sympathetic look before taking his wife’s other side.

Lily opened her mouth to speak to Poppi, a question at the tip of her tongue when suddenly a roar from the crowd shook the metal chairs and the entire stadium quaked with the stomping. A whir of blue flew out, circling the pitch with whoops of determination and fists to the air.

Fervent chanting broke out from not only the stadium, but also in the posh seeming box and even Poppi found herself hollering along with the crowd.

_**“Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here.”** _

Mentally she rolled her eyes at the boys line because there were women on the team, but she chanted along anyway. James flew by the box and blew her a kiss followed by a smirk that was magnified by the QuaffleTron, causing the crowd to cheer obnoxiously. Poppi waved awkwardly at him, plotting the various ways she would murder him later. That was intentional. She was still dodging him about the date and he kept wanting to talk about it. Bloody emotional creature. Do you have any idea how hard it is to dodge someone when you’re living together? Very.

“I can see it now, a spring wedding would be lovely.” Ginny murmured with a happy sigh causing Poppi to snort aloud.

“Don’t encourage that!” Harry hissed.

“Why not?” Ginny whipped to him, face heated in an accusatory tone.

“Because I bet both of the boys if they got married before 25 I’d buy them a house.”

“You did what?” Ginny gasped.

“Well you saw how gangly they were in their Hogwarts days! How was I supposed to know he’d become...well...James?” Harry grumbled.

Ginny shook her head in what could only be described as utter dismay.

“I think we’re still good on the Albus front though, don’t you think? I’m still not convinced there isn’t something going on between him and that Malfoy boy though.” Harry added contemplatively.

Ginny downed a pint of warm beer, no longer listening to her husband who was still musing loudly about whether Scorpius Malfoy would make a good son-in-law. The verdict was maybe, but his father was a blast-ended skrewt on polyjuice potion to mask his skrewtness.

The quaffle was in the air and players were zooming around in a blur of Puddlemere navy and Kenmare emerald. James was hovering between the left and center hoop, eyes sharply focused on the quaffle. A Kenmare fellow, Zabini, swooshed through a crowd of pushy Puddlemere players with the quaffle tucked safely under his arm. He pulled his elbow back before thrusting it forward, propelling the quaffle toward the goal with all his might. Poppi held her breath and squeezed Ginny’s hand, terrified James would get smashed in the face with the rather heavy looking ball. James, with the reflexes one would expect from a professional quidditch player, caught the quaffle with ease.

“Yeah James! Do the hoop stuff!” Poppi jumped up with the crowd, screaming in joy. Lily doubled over in laughter.

“Do the hoop stuff? Really?” She asked, clutching her side. Poppi shrugged, not taking her eyes off James. He played well, no potential injuries to Poppi’s relief. Amadeus did take a bludger to the head, but he was fine after a few moments of heavy blinking. He must be made of iron to be able to take a bludger like that and be fine.

Part of her wished there was more suspense toward the end of the game, but Puddlemere was up by 280 points when a nimble girl with a ravishing pixie cut caught the snitch.

The moment the snitch was caught, the entire Potter family roared with joy before hurrying out of their seats, Poppi tagging along behind Lily. She would have liked a moment or two longer to roar, but she followed anyway. They filed down the aluminum stairs and were escorted by the very surly man that Poppi had decided she liked to the Puddlemere locker rooms. Harry leaned against the wall while Ginny gave play-by-play replay commentary on how excellent James was. Lily was grinning like a loon.

She was happy that James had the kind of family that didn’t miss his games and were so full of pride for his accomplishments. Not everyone had that. It was really nice to her how proud Ginny was of James. Harry was too, of course, but that beaming, motherly tenacity that emanated from her words as she praised him filled Poppi with a bubbling sense of both joy and sadness. She’d never have that again.

“This is my favorite part.” Lily whispered to her when Ginny and Harry discussed in depth a save James made that lead to an immediate turnaround score for Puddlemere.

“Your parents analyzing every play?” Poppi asked her with a twitch of her eyebrow.

“No, the gorgeous Quidditch boys about to run out of that room.” She sighed dreamily.

They both broke into giggles as the door swung open and sure enough, gorgeous Quidditch boys emerged, dripping with water and smelling like heaven.

James walked out, a smirk plainly plastered on his face, and scooped Poppi up with a kiss on the forehead. She turned a vivid shade of pink, mildly embarrassed by Ginny’s awes and Harry complaining about the housing market.

“Thank Merlin you’ve showered.” She commented, still a shade of pink. She hadn’t expected him to shower so quickly in the locker room. His smirk remained.

“That was by far the best game I’ve played yet, don’t you think?” James asked his mother.

Ginny started her rant on how excellent his save was all over again. Poppi smiling. There was this feeling though, even with James’ obvious affections, of being an outsider. She rubbed her cheek, smearing the crumbling paint on her cheek on her hand.

Amadeus, with his shining bright eyes and dripping hair came out of the locker room with a beaming smile. He smacked James on the back with a hard thump before greeting the rest of the family.

Amadeus, James, Poppi, Lily, Ginny, and Harry all apparated together to a place that Lily informed her was the Burrow. It was a wonderful house just on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon. It had teetering stories that defied physics with the help of magic. It had only recently been remodeled and the exterior had a brand new coat of lustrous maroon paint to greet them. At the end of the very long cobblestone walkway was a greying ginger woman with an oversized knit sweater in Puddlemere colors jumping about and waving excitedly.

“JAMES! Well done, oh well done James!” The woman, which Lily informed her was Nana Molly, chirped, pulling James into a tight squeeze. She went down the row, squeezing everyone one by one. She told Amadeus that he was far too thin and he must be famished.

When Nana Molly reached Poppi, she squealed in delight. “Oh, Poppi! It’s so wonderful to finally meet you! We were just debating on whether or not you actually exist or if this was like the one time when James–”

“Ahem, Nana, I think Poppi is absolutely starving. Aren’t you Poppi?” James cut off his Nana. She was quite curious what the one time was but she graciously allowed James that one.

“Absolutely starved.” She nodded, rubbing her belly.

“Oh, of course you are, and so skinny too! Don’t worry, we’ll feed you right up!” Molly ushered her into the house. It was a lovely house, full of picture frames dashing about with her kids and grandkids cheesing for the camera.

The living room was packed full of fiery red hair in the cozy space. The moment she entered the room, she was pulled from family member to family and hugged and talked to. She felt that overwhelming urge again to sprint out of there like she was on fire. She felt that way when she had to meet the entirety of James' friends at that awful thing at that awful restaurant. As Hermione Granger Weasley was telling her about the latest law she had passed, Poppi stared at the terrifying clock hanging on the wall. It had nine hands, each with the names of family members she had just met. Save for one of the hands, they all pointed toward home. The other hand, labelled Fred, was stuck awkwardly between Lost and Mortal Peril, bouncing between the two.

“Alright, Poppi, you’ve met all of my family. When will I meet yours?” James asked loudly after a few drinks supplied by his grandfather, Arthur. She was wedged uncomfortably between James and Amadeus on the loveseat and couldn’t breathe properly.

“Oh.” Poppi wasn’t sure she wanted to have this discussion in front of the entire family. It was her fault for not telling him sooner though. James stared at her confused.

“Well there’s no one left for you to meet.” Poppi answered carefully. James still looked confused but Ginny understood immediately.

“What?” James asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

“James–” Ginny warned him.

“No, it’s okay.” Poppi decided. This man had shared every last unnerving detail of his life with her, she might as well do the same.

“My mum, Camille was her name, was a healer and only child. She met my dad at a party at a pub right after she graduated training. I don’t think she ever bothered to look for him again after that night.” She began. Her eyes were already a bit glossy, but she was fine, lumpy throat and all.

The entire room was quiet save for the hum of the phonograph in the corner humming out Celestina Warbeck hits. No one was laughing or joking or poking each other. She hated the silence. James seemed abashed. She could see the regret of asking in his eyes so she smiled reassuringly.

“In my fifth year, she started working with Healers without Borders. She loved her assignment. She was trying to heal patients with a virus that wipes out their immune system’s defense. Over a million people die every year from it.”

“Poppi, you don’t have to–” James interrupted her, his cheeks bright red.

“She was a bit careless in the lab. It was an accident, but she should have known better. She dropped a vial of blood she was testing. It shattered. When she tried to clean it, she cut her hand. One small nick was all it took to kill my mother.” The frosted tone of voice wasn’t one she used commonly and it surprised even her.

“Wow.” Albus muttered. Lily put her hand on her back, standing behind the loveseat.

“The virus took her before she saw me graduate Hogwarts. The thing that she would have hated the most though, was the media. Millions of people dying from this disease every single year, but one European healer dying from it and suddenly the press was painting her as a martyr for the people. Well, she wouldn’t hate that because at least it raised awareness, but I certainly did.” She laughed humorlessly.

“I’m so sorry, Poppi,” James said quietly.

“It’s okay. She totally would have loved you though. She was a sucker for dorky guys. Always trying to pick out my future husband. Do you lot know that Jamesy here has a massive secret comic book collection under his bed?” Poppi smiled. She meant the smile too. She was okay. No matter what, she’d be okay. She always was.

“Damn it Poppi! I told you that in confidence!” He chuckled. The entire room roared with laughter and suddenly his cousins were bombarding him with taunts.

The air was a bit thick all the same and Poppi already couldn’t breathe while shoved between the two bulky quidditch boys. Poppi worked her way across the room to the back door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the beautiful garden that James had told her so much about.

“Do you think you’re special? That you mean something to him? Girls like you are a dime a dozen. He doesn’t give a damn about your sob story either, so stop trying to manipulate him.”

Poppi glanced up in surprise, connecting the voice to the fiery redhead that she was sure was Rose. Rose was advancing in on her in a rather intimidating manner, practically pinning her to the corner. The buzz of the room began to die down again and Poppi’s stomach dropped to the floor.

“What are you talking about?” Poppi asked once she regained her voice. Some small redhead wasn’t going to speak to her like that.

“Jillian Myers, Rachelle Hamburg, Elizabeth Reeves, Laura Walsh, Kelsey O’Donnell, Samantha Peterson, Mollie Bohannon, and Eva Whitworth. Those are the girls that James has bothered to bring home this year alone. Can you imagine how many girls he didn’t bring ‘round the family?” It stung. She knew it stung because she smirked. Poppi didn’t understand why the actual fuck this girl, James’ own cousin, was acting so cruel.

“You’re coming off as a bit jealous, you know that? I mean I understand that your family was Pureblood until recently, but maybe don’t let it show so much?” Poppi spat back.

Rose pulled her hand back and Poppi braced herself for the impact of the hit. Eyes shut tight, planning whether she’d tackle her to the floor and knock her teeth out or hex her into oblivion, she realized the hit never came. She peeled one eye open to Albus holding Rose’s wrist in a tight grip. The grip was so tight that the area around his fingers were bright red, then completely white.

“Fuck off, Rose.” Albus snarled. Rose looked in shock, completely taken aback. Poppi was sure she looked exactly the same.

Poppi’s eyes were blurring with tears and she counted to five to calm herself down. She glanced around the packed room. The conversation that was humming along had stopped completely. Molly, Ginny, and Lily were wearing the same gobsmacked look. Harry was blinking slowly, as was James.

Albus put an arm around her shoulder and guided her to the kitchen, leaving Rose in a room full of her family. Pots and pans hung from the ceiling of the kitchen and The Witching Hour was humming quietly from a radio on top of a stack of oddly named cookbooks that Poppi had never read. _Charm Your Own Cheese_ didn’t sound like a bad one though. If things were different she would have asked to borrow it.

Albus twitched his fingers and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but promptly changed his mind and put on a kettle. Poppi snorted.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I never joke about tea.” He told her solemnly. Poppi’s eyes were still glossy, but she smiled anyway. James’ thunderous voice resonated through the house, shaking the pots and pans hanging above her head. She could hear the anger seething in his voice but couldn’t quite make out the words. She wasn’t sure she wanted to anyway.

“I don’t understand why she has a problem with me.” Poppi finally said over the reverberation of James’ voice. It felt good to say. Like spitting out overcooked food.

“It’s a long story.” Albus told her, smacking two tea cups on the marble counter.

She stayed silent, waiting for some sort of explanation.

“Fine. Well, long story short Eva and Rose were friends.”

“So she’s mad at _me_ that it didn’t work out between them?” Poppi asked in disbelief. That was hardly fair.

“Eva has more or less cut her out of her life.” Albus sounded more exhausted than anything.

“That has nothing to do with me.” Poppi repeated.

“I know that. I’m not saying it’s your fault. She’s just a bit mad in the head, y’know? Always been like that. She’s completely batshit.”

The kettle whistled and her head suddenly was throbbing. She just wanted to crawl into her bed. Her own bed with her own navy sheets and floral bedding. Not James’ guest room, all museum and no life.

Albus poured a cup of tea for her and sat down across from her. She thought, if only for a moment, that Albus was in fact quite handsome. He was handsome in a very different way than James though. Where James was the natural athlete, the traditionally handsome kind of guy, Albus was the kind of guy that seemed to thrive on intellectual conversations. He was more broodingly handsome, but he was also very warm like his mother.

“He really likes you, you know. Like really, really likes you. Honestly, he’s getting a bit annoying about it.” Albus told her with a wicked grin. Poppi gave him a faint smile.

“I like him too, Al. I do. I just think this is all too much for me right now. He’s too fast for me. His life is too wild for me. It’s all just too much.” She told him with a heavy sigh.

“Imagine how he feels,” Al said without any trace of humor in his voice.

“I am, Al. I am.” She pushed herself up from the barstool she was sitting at, determined to get away from the Burrow.

“Hey, where are you going? Rose was being an utter idiot.” James pushed his way in front of her as she made a beeline for the door.

“James.” She whispered his name with uncertainty.

“Yeah?” He smiled at her, his nose nearly touching hers. In this moment there was nothing she didn’t want to see more than him smiling down at her like that.

“I think I’m going back to my own flat.” She blurted out. It wasn’t as calloused as it could have been, but it wasn’t the gentle tone she had meant for.

“You’re–Wait. What?” He asked confused. The loving look washed from his face and instead confusion took its place.

“I think the publicity has died down. No one has even bothered my at work for a few days. I just would feel better if I could be back in my own bed.”

“Is this about Rose?” He asked angrily. She had to admit, if only to herself, that Rose certainly shattered the fairytale feeling that had been culminating.

“No. It’s just that I think I’m becoming a bit too dependent on your family and I need my own space.” She told him, not meeting his eyes. She pushed past him, a fleeting glance at Ginny, who she’d miss the most, before pushing out the door. As soon as she crossed the threshold, she disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The spaghetti thing got a _little_ out of control. Sorry for the science. But not really. SO I haven't properly edited this (just a quick read through) but it's been over a month since I've updated so I'll edit this properly in the morning when I'm not completely exhausted. The entire Burrow incident and moving out was not planned and was part of a rewrite. Please know that this is the chapter I intended to end the story when I originally wrote it! I'd say we're about halfway there now! WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO POPPI AND JAMES? WILL THEY MAKE IT? Who knows. Seriously. Who knows?


	8. E I G H T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--

A knock came at the door again for the third time that day. Poppi froze in her kitchen, the pho noodles she had been slurping only moments before dripped from her mouth. She mentally cursed herself for not putting some sort of _muffliato_ on the door. If the knocker listened closely they could probably hear the hum of her new television, a splurge she purchased yesterday in tears, or the slow drip of the broth dribbling onto the floor. 

She heard a loud sigh, a sigh she recognized well. James. Then she heard a loud banging on the door. Fervent even. Every instinct she had told her to answer the door. It might be an emergency! No matter what, it would probably make her feel better than what she was currently feeling.

“Damnit, Poppi. I’m trying not to come off as stalkerish, but we know you’re in there. The doorman said you haven’t left all day. Open the damn door.” Albus’ voice demanded, less softly than he had spoken to her two days ago at the Burrow. 

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She stood, frozen, noodle dripping, until she heard their footsteps retreating toward the stairwell. She dashed over to the door, peeping out the peephole. The hall was indeed empty. She let out a sigh of relief, ignoring the guilt chewing at her stomach lining. 

She returned to the kitchen, carrying her bowl of pho to the table. She sat down, glancing at the headline of the Prophet. 

_**James Potter Single At Last: Insider Tells All** _

James Potter had always been single. She rolled her eyes and tossed the paper into the bin.

She heard another knock at the door and mentally prepared herself to answer it. This time she’d give him the peace that he deserved. She needed a few days to sort out how she felt, maybe make a spreadsheet or two, and then she’d be ready to talk to him. NO, she wasn’t mad at him but if he didn’t stop banging on the door she would be mad at him. 

She reached for the knob prepared to swing the door open, speech at the ready, when she decided she wasn't ready to look into his eyes and say that to him. She'd change her mind and get carried away and not bother to properly assess any of it. She sat down again in front of the television, browsing her stacks of research papers for anything that might be relevant. 

“CLOCK-BMAL1 rhythmic binding to E-box motifs drives circadian element-binding protein transcription.” She sighed, reading the line over and over again. She already knew that. The hard thing about exploration for the sake of exploration was navigating what had already been explored. If you’re the first person to map the stars, you’ll name the most. If you’re late to the party, you’ll be lucky to find anything important at all. 

Poppi shuffled her paper with a sigh. The thing about getting used to having someone around is that when they aren’t around anymore the silence becomes deafening. Before James she didn’t even realize her flat was so quiet. She clicked the volume up a few decibels on the television pretending like that would help. She went back to shuffling her papers mindlessly. The new intern, Sebastian or whatever, was fairly clueless. She couldn’t help but wonder how the hell he got such a good internship to begin with. He was probably from an influential family. 

Poppi stopped shuffling her papers and strained to listen. An odd sound like the whooshing of wind emanated gently through the room. Hell, it even felt chillier. She knitted her brows together and leaned on the back of the sofa, trying to get a look into the kitchen. Had she left the window open? Not that she could remember. Were dementors around? Probably not.

Her view was blocked by an oversized brass lamp so she sprung up, walking quickly to her keys basket. Her wand would be there. She sighed in relief once she felt the slender wood in her grasp. She was much more dangerous with her wand in hand. 

She pressed her body against the wall, just beside the the casing to the kitchen. She slowly peeked over the casing, wand at the ready. 

She saw a flash of dark hair and shot her spell, disarming the intruder in a whizz of crimson light.

“Whoa! Relax! It’s just me!”

“Haven't you ever heard of knocking?” Poppi hissed as she clutched her pounding heart, recognizing the intruder immediately.

“For your information I've knocked on that door twice today.” 

“You did?” Poppi frowned. She had assumed it was James that kept coming back and part of her was disappointed. Even though she didn't bother to answer.

“Yes. I assumed that you were done being a stropping cow and had talked things out with James. Would you like some grass to chew on?” 

“Are those his words?” Poppi asked dangerously. She would murder him in his sleep. Yes. Or maybe go have a visit in the Death Chamber at the Department of Mysteries. Benny Blackburn, the supervisor of the chamber, always did have a thing for her. 

“Of course not. The bloody moron thinks you're Merlin’s gift to wizardkind. He's all _understanding_ and other complete rubbish.” Amadeus rolled his eyes. 

“Well then what the fuck are you doing crawling through my window?” 

“Uh. Well. I need a favor.” 

“So let me get this straight. You break into my home, insult me, and then have the gall to ask me for a favor?” She asked incredulously. 

“Well when you put it like that it sounds—” 

“Exactly the way it is! You're an oaf, Amadeus Patterson.” 

Poppi turned from him and sprawled back on her couch. Whatever the favor was, she wasn't interested in it. He sat down beside her, moving her legs so they were on his lap. She didn't like it one bit and kicked her foot away. As her leg jerked back she noticed a large black box floating in her living room. She smacked him on the shoulder and he glanced up at it. 

“What the bloody hell is that?” He asked, gazing intently at it. 

“You mean you didn’t bring the thing?” Poppi asked in surprise. 

“Of course not. I don’t even know what the hell it is.” Amadeus denied. 

Poppi’s heart skipped a beat when she realized what it was. It was a bloody camera. 

“Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me!” She groaned. She hopped off the couch, leaping to reach the hovering device. She grabbed it on her third jump and lugged it to the kitchen window that was still open. Sure enough, three people were crowded around her complex, just below the window. She pushed the still levitating camera out the window and set it alight with her wand. The camera warped and burned searing hot with blue and green flames popping up when the metal pieces ignited. As the flames died down and the vultures in the street protested loudly, she shot an electromagnetic wave from her wand. An “Oh, come on!” groaned from the street but she didn't care. Finally, she exploded the camera, watching satisfied as the pieces all rained down on her intruders. Sending a damn camera through her window like that was somehow less invasive. The nerve of those assholes.

Amadeus stood behind her in the window and laughed. “Wow, I can't believe they still care about you!” 

“Me neither.” She groaned. 

“What’s this favor you need from me?” She turned to ask him. His warm eyes burned brilliantly at her question. 

“Do you remember your friend over at La Grenouille?” Amadeus asked her. She quirked an eyebrow, having absolutely no idea what he was talking about. 

“Where?” She scratched her head thinking about. 

“La Grenouille? The restaurant where we did the social? The one where you met pretty much everyone?” He asked each question as if Poppi was a complete idiot. Again, she’d prefer a nice food truck in the park.

“The one with the _thing_ and the stuffy atmosphere?” Poppi remembered. 

“That sounds about right.” He nodded vigorously.

“And I had a friend there?” She thought back. The awful journalist who she convinced she was James’ body guard? Maybe one of the quidditch girlfriends?

“Yeah, the one with the blue hair.” 

“Oh! You mean Bianca!” Poppi laughed. She barely knew her at all. 

“Yeah. Her. I’ve been eating there every other day to try to see her, but I haven’t had a chance.” Amadeus nodded solemnly. Poppi looked him over a moment. She barely knew him and he just climbed through her window trying to take over her life. It sounded all too familiar.

“You mean you’re stalking her?” Poppi finally said. 

“What! No! I’m just–Well. I just can’t stop thinking about her. I think it was love at first sight.” Amadeus fluttered his eyelashes before closing his eyes with a soft smile playing on his lips.

Poppi snorted at this. “There’s no such thing.” 

“There is too!” Amadeus flicked his eyes open with a scowl plastered on his face. 

“Okay, so what does Bianca have to do with me?” She asked, exhausted by this exchange already.

“I want you to introduce me.” Amadeus gripped her hand. 

“We aren’t friends. I talked to her like a total of five minutes.” She argued. 

“Come on, Poppi. Just because you want to be miserable and die alone doesn’t mean we all do.” Amadeus grumbled. It was a low blow. She wanted to hex him again. 

“You want me to just walk into the kitchen and say ‘hello person I barely met, would you like to meet a guy who just broke into my apartment?’” She tried to point out the idiocy of it all but he refused to recognize it.

“No. I just want you to lure her out of the kitchen. I’ll do the rest.” He shot her a cocky grin. 

Half an hour later, Poppi was sitting in a lace dress at a restaurant she didn’t much like with a person she didn’t much like. Amadeus had tried to help her charm her hair but he’d managed to make it spiral out of control. She pinned it back to the best of her abilities and quickly shaved only the visible portion of her legs, angry that her grow streak was interrupted. It’s such a tedious task. 

The waitress seemed ever so uncomfortable with Poppi’s request to bring out a line cook, but did so anyway. Amadeus’ social status must have helped even though he was so nervous he could hardly speak. The fork and knife quivered in his hands and he gripped the handles so tightly his knuckles turned white. As soon as they sat down he looked like he was going to be sick.

Bianca, hair a different shade of blue, followed the waitress toward their table, smoothing out her spotless white coat. Poppi briefly wondered how the coat could be so clean when she wore it to cook, but then remembered that other people were much better at cooking than her. They probably don’t shriek every time the grease pops.

“Hello, I’m Bianca Peretti, chef de partie. How may I help you this evening?” She asked politely despite the completely baffled look on her face.

“Bianca! I’m Poppi Pennington. We met a few weeks ago?” Poppi threw a glance at Amadeus. He was inconveniencing her at work just because he was too shy to say hello properly. Twit. 

“Ah! I remember. The vultures were after you!” She smiled warmly and visibly relaxed which made Poppi relax a bit.

“That was me! You seriously saved me from a mental breakdown.” Poppi gushed.

She smiled politely. “It was nothing.”

“Oh, and this is my friend Amadeus Patterson.” Poppi gestured at the idiot who was sitting far too stiffly in his seat. He looked like he was panicking internally.

“Yes. Friend. Just friends. Nothing else.” Amadeus babbled. Poppi kicked him under the table, soliciting a glare from him.

“Right, anyway, I never had a chance to thank you properly for helping me so I was wondering if you wanted to go out for brunch or tea or something sometime?” Poppi offered politely.

“Patterson…” She trailed off, thinking a moment. “You play for Puddlemere don’t you?” She asked as soon as it hit her. 

“I do!” He chirped. It was hilarious to see such a cool, collected famous athlete babble like an idiot. 

“It was nice to see you guys smash Kenmare the other day. The collective ego on that team desperately needed to be inflated.” Bianca smashed her fist into her hand for emphasis. Poppi laughed. They were destined to be together, she was sure of it now. 

“I know! It’s refreshing to not have to listen to Zabini praise himself for a few days.” Amadeus nodded his head vigorously.

“I prefer the Appleby Arrows myself though. They've got a real shot at taking it all this year.” She added as an afterthought. 

“What?” He gurgled the word, aghast that she thought the Arrows could beat Puddlemere. 

“Just wait and see. Anyway, I’d love to do something with you both sometime. I’ll send you an owl once I know my schedule for the next weekend?” She asked Poppi who nodded. 

Poppi scribbled out her address on a gum wrapper she had in her clutch and handed it over to Bianca. She said a final goodbye and went back to the kitchen. 

“I’VE GOT A DATE! Oh, Poppi! I could kiss you!” He exclaimed, far too loud. An older couple a few tables down shot them an angry look.

“If you do I will hex your left buttock off and feed it to you.” Poppi told him with narrowed eyes. 

“I’m the happiest man in the world.” He murmured to himself, relaxing into the seat clutching his heart.

“Cool. Now pay for this meal I didn’t want and get some take out boxes in case I want it later.” She insisted. 

He flagged down the waitress, paid, and carried the boxes. They disapparated back to her flat in a wink of an eye. She leaned against the doorframe while he stood awkwardly in the hallway, switching from foot to foot. She was ready to just have her peace and quiet and he wouldn’t allow for that if he came inside. 

“So, you’ll owl me once she owls you, right?” He asked. 

“Obviously.” Poppi rolled her eyes, but smiled. This version of Amadeus was notably different from the cool, collected one she had in her head. He was a huge dork. 

“YOU!” A voice boomed suddenly in the hallway. A very red faced James came stomping down the hall, livid. 

“James?” She asked, surprised at the sight of him. 

He glanced at her only a moment, a sad sort of glance, before swinging. His fist connected with Amadeus’ jaw throwing him to the floor, the takeout boxes and their content went flying in the air. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” James roared. Poppi patted her clutch for her wand but her hands were shaking too terribly. She had to stop this before it got out of control.

“Of all the girls you just had to go after–You had to pick–To pick HER?” His voice thundered in the hallway. Mrs. Margaret two doors down poked her head out, saw the commotion, and poked her head back in. Thanks for the help. 

James pulled his arm back again, this time straddling Amadeus. Her fingers finally grasped her wand and she shot the first spell she could think of. 

“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!” She screamed. A jet of pale blue light shot from her wand and struck both Amadeus and James. 

“Holy fucking fuck,” she said eloquently. 

Both of their arms and legs snapped together and they were as stiff as her chalkboard in her office.

“Okay, this is fine. We’re fine. Fuck. Okay.” Poppi paced the hallway.

Poppi bent over to pick up James and drag him into her flat. She failed completely, dropping him to the floor with a hard thud. She cringed. “Sorry, James.” She glanced down at her wand. Levitation charms were never her strong suit. 

“Wingardium Leviosa.” She paired with a nice swish and flick of her wand. 

James’ body floated in the air, still straight as a board. She felt his eyes on her and she became immediately flushed with emotion. “Well, James, I’m doing my fucking best.” She told him. 

His head may or may not have accidentally bumped the door frame on the way in. She levitated Amadeus all the same only he definitely hit his inflated head on the door frame. She sat down across both of the stiff bodies on her couch and bit her lip. 

“Okay. Where to begin?” She drummed her fingers on her leg. She glanced between the two of them.

“Well I’m definitely not undoing the body binds on either of you until we talk this out.” She told them, actually pleased that they couldn’t talk back. This could become a permanent feature. 

While they couldn’t express their feelings this way, the high energy emotion of rage and pain seemed to roll of both of them. She felt guilty. If she had just faced this whole thing head on none of this would have happened. 

“Amadeus, I just like you better like this.” She told him before addressing James, the thing she was dreading most. 

“James, nothing is happening between Amadeus and I. I genuinely have absolutely no idea why you’d think that.” She addressed him. He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have any explanation for you that will soften my actions. I just wanted space. All of it became too much and it wasn’t even your cousin and all of her very hateful words or the fact that you’ve apparently had more than your fair share of dates, I don’t care about any of that. I just don’t know if we’re on the same level. I’m not trying to do the whole fall in love and have three kids thing. I’m trying to have fun and move up in the department. You’re intense and it’s a good thing but if I had to face you I knew I’d change my mind and just move back into your flat and forget about my own life.” She explained. James stared on with dull eyes so she kept talking. 

“You really don’t even know anything about me anyway. Oh, and I haven’t even seen Ramona since this whole thing started with you. When have I had time? If we do this thing I don’t want it to be a whirlwind. I want slow and steady.” She crossed her arms with a final tone. 

“Well, do you have anything to say?” She asked, slightly aggravated that she was the only one doing the talking. 

“Oh, shit. Right.” She realized that they were still petrified and couldn’t say anything. She released them from the bind. 

Amadeus shot a dark look at James who returned the favor. 

“Explain this then.” James spat, pulling a newspaper clipping out of his pocket. 

_**Amadeus Patterson Spotted Cozy With Poppi Pennington?** _

Poppi rolled her eyes at the headline of a copy of ‘breaking news’ Witchy Weekly. She thought that the film would have been properly destroyed, but apparently not.

“James, you of all people should understand that headlines are never accurate.” Poppi groaned. 

“The picture still exists. Care to explain it? Also it says you two were on a date at La Grenouille and I’d recognize that roast duck anywhere. Go ahead and try to explain that away.” He hissed, but it felt like a half hearted accusation. 

“Mate, I asked Poppi to help me get a date with a girl I liked. She managed it, mind you. I assumed you guys were done with your stupid fight. Obviously not though.” Amadeus piped up. 

“Great. So we’ve got that sorted. How about you two leave now? I’d like a nap.” Poppi decided, feeling emotionally drained.

“I’m leaving. You two are sorting your shit out. TONIGHT.” Amadeus got up from the couch and headed to the kitchen. 

“Amadeus, please use the door. I hate people going in and out of my window.” Poppi called to him. 

He reemerged from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas on his jaw. “Oh, I am. I just needed to borrow this.” 

“HEY! That was two sickles!” She called after him as he shut the door. 

“Bloody thief.” She muttered. She met James’ piercing, red-ringed emerald eyes. He looked as tired as she felt. His disheveled, unruly state tugged at her heart, making her feel even more guilty. 

“So.” 

“So.” He repeated.

“I’m sorry. I really am.” She told him meekly. 

“Don’t be. I get that it was all a bit much.” He looked down at his shoes with a frown. 

She sighed. “It was. It’s not your fault though.” 

“I guess.” He hummed, still not looking up. 

“But you were my best first date and I think we should try a second date.” 

“Yeah?” His face jerked up and his eyes met hers. 

“If you’re up for it. One condition though.” She told him with a small smile. She hadn’t ruined her chances with him after all.

“Anything.” He beamed at her, childlike and full of excitement. 

“I’m staying at my own flat and you’re helping me upgrade the security.” She told him with a laugh. She was sick and tired of people coming in and out at their convenience.

He smiled. “Deal.” 

“Excellent.” She hopped off the chair and scooted onto the couch next to him. She left enough room between them for an entire other person, which made him quirk an eyebrow, but he said nothing.

“I like the television. Is it new?” He asked. It should have been an awkward transition but it wasn’t. It wasn’t because James was James.

“Another fact you need to know about me. I blow money when I’m upset.” She told him jokingly. She totally did but he didn’t need to know that.

“So what you’re saying is I need to put forth the effort to be nice to you or I won’t be able to afford to date you.” James teased.

“If you want to fund my mood swings you’re going to need a promotion for sure.” She laughed. 

“So about that date…” James began with a smirk.

“Nope. I’m planning the whole thing.” She insisted.

She scooted all the way over to him and entwined her fingers with his. He flicked on the television and everything felt like it would be okay. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Some of my regular readers might notice that I haven't been as active lately. It's NaNo and I'm working on a really fun original fic! In the meantime, I'd like to suggest an archive (and forum) that I'm heavily active in. It's my home away from home and if you're looking for awesome stories to read (way better than mine) or for reviews for YOUR stories, please check out HarryPotterFanficTalk and its associated forum. It's a multi-fandom, OF welcome happy place full of the best people you'll never meet. Hope to see y'all around soon! ;D


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